Wankage
by Rikki
Summary: Akira's trying to solve the mystery of Shindou Hikaru ... Isumi discovers a disturbing secret about himself.
1. Why don't Doujinshika do crossovers?

Wankage  
By: The Refugees of Katsucon 9.5 (the con that never ended)   
  
Touya Akira had theories about Shindou Hikaru. Not _all_ of them were bizarre, really-- sometimes he thought that Hikaru might have some kind of strange personality disorder or a chemical imbalance that made him talk to himself. That wasn't _that_ far outside the realm of possibility. Unfortunately, neither could explain his idiot savant abilities in the game of Go--would probably be more hindrance than help, actually.   
  
Which left certain other, seemingly less plausible possibilities...   
  
On the whole, Akira didn't consider himself a spiritual person, or at least not anymore than other Japanese were. He believed in the spirits of his ancestors and the gods about as much as he believed supernovas forming millions of light years away, meaning he was open minded but not especially faithfully committed to either possibility. Neither affected his life in practical terms, so he never spent much time thinking whether they existed true or not.   
  
That is, until Shindou Hikaru came into his life.   
  
At first, Akira assumed Hikaru was a liar, or more charitably, that he was being clever in allowing others to believe he was a mediocre player, only revealing his true brilliance when it was convenient. The problem with that theory was that no one who knew Shindou Hikaru for very long could sincerely believe that the boy was "clever". There had to be something more to it, and at this point, Akira had simply exhausted his patience for other reasonable conclusions.   
  
Which is why he was now on the phone with a member of Japan's oldest spiritualist family trying to hire an onmyouji. Because really, who else did you call when you suspected a friend was being posessed other than the Sumeragi clan?   
  
The person on the other end of the line had fallen silent for a long uncomfortable moment after Akira had made his initial request. The boy twisted the phone cord between his fingers and wished someone could have explained the proper protocol for this sort of thing. There was something too similar between what he was doing and ordering takeout Chinese for this to be right.   
  
"....excuse me, but may I ask who is calling?"   
  
Akira, caught off-guard, blinked.   
  
"Oh! Uh, Touya Akira ..."   
  
"..."   
  
"...I play professional Go."   
  
Another awkward pause flooded the line, and Akira was certain he was about to be cut off.   
  
"I apologize if I'm being too direct," he began again, trying to regain his footing. "But I wasn't sure how one does this sort of thing. If you could direct me to the proper channels, I'll be more than happy not to take up any more of your time--"   
  
"Oh no, not at all, Touya-sensei!"   
  
_Sensei?_   
  
"It would be our pleasure to assist you. What is the nature of your spiritual problem?"   
  
The change in tone was surprising. Akira had expected to be accorded some professional courtesy, but nothing like this, and certainly not on account of Go. He had always supposed it was possible that he or his father could be known outside of the Go world, but had conditioned himself not to expect it. Even to the Japanese his job was a strange one.   
  
Then again, onmyoujitsu was a strange job as well. Maybe it wasn't so odd that the Sumeragis knew who he was.   
  
"Well ... I'm not really sure it's a spiritual problem really. Um... I just wanted the opinion of a professional..."   
  
"That can be arranged Touya-sensei, but we'll need specifics in order to more effectively deal with the situation."   
  
"Of course ... Well, you see ... uh...it goes something like...I think a friend of mine is possessed--"   
  
"By a spirit or demon, Touya-sensei?"   
  
"Uhh... Spirit, maybe? I can't imagine there being such a thing as a Go playing demon..."  
*********   
  
Ryuichirou tossed the phone in the general direction of its cradle and sighed heavily as it bounced off the wall.   
  
"Problem?" Hiroji asked. He raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Was that 'Touya Akira' a real wanker?"   
  
"Not exactly. I mean, it sounds legit, and I think the guy's sincere."   
  
"Then what is it?"   
  
"I just wish people would stop confusing onmyoujis with private detectives. I think he expects us to follow this Shindou kid around all over Tokyo."   
  
"You're pouting."   
  
"I am not."   
  
Hiroji took a long sip of his soda and watched his cousin with skeptical eyes.   
  
"It _is_ troublesome, though... And New Year's coming up--busy season...What did you tell him?"   
  
"I told him, frankly, that the family is very busy at this time of year, and since it's not a situation that requires immediate attention, we'd send out the first available onmyouji for a consultation, but that it'd be a while before anyone would be free."   
  
Hiroji smiled snarkily.   
  
"There's always Subaru-san..."   
  
"Oh, Obaasan would _love_ that," Ryuichirou snickered.   
  
Pause.   
  
"Although...he _is_ still an onmyouji...and he does have a lot of free time...and it's not like there's anybody else..."   
  
Hiroji almost dropped his soda.   
  
"You're seriously considering this?"   
  
"Well...why not?"   
  
"Well, there's just that small problem of the Sakura. He can't be trusted to wield spiritual powers now that he's the Sakurazukamori."   
  
Ryuichirou shrugged. "He may not have to--this Touya just wants to know what's up with the other kid, not exorcise him."   
  
"Yet. And what if he tries to feed him to the Tree?"   
  
"...uh....well, we'll deal with that if it comes up. Anyway, Subaru owes the family something--Obaasan didn't cut him off, so he should be able to help us out a bit with a minor case when we're swamped.   
  
"Besides ... how badly could he fuck this up?"  
********   
  
The piece of paper lying at Isumi Shinichiro's feet was, like most plot devices loaded with a life-altering secret, entirely unassuming. Nothing about its slightly yellowed edges or crisply-printed characters suggested that the information it would impart to the reader would radically change their understanding of the world and their place in it, or cause them to question everything they'd known about themselves up till then. Which is why, when Isumi was hunting a dictionary in the family library and found the paper in an envelope hidden behind a row of books, he read it without the slightest clue that his entire life was about to go topsy-turvy.   
  
And that's how he found out he was adopted.   
  
The strength didn't rush out of his legs; he didn't faint and fall to the floor in a melodramatic swoon. Instead, Isumi sat down, pulled his knees up to his chest, and studied the paper more carefully. When he'd satisfied himself that it was genuine, and that he had indeed been the four-month old (male, dark hair, violet eyes, birthmark on the right shoulder) taken in by the Isumi family in April of two thousand, he folded it up, put it back in the envelope, and put the envelope back where he had found it. Then he sat down again and angsted like mad.   
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was probably deeply upset with his parents for not telling him the truth, but it was hard to be mad at people who'd made you part of their family when they didn't have to. What he felt toward them was mostly worry--how should he should act around his mother and father now that he knew? Should he confront them directly or act as if nothing had changed? Better question--_could_ he even manage to keep an illusion of ignorance and contentment while he searched for his answers?   
  
Isumi knew _that_ was the more pressing concern, but his mind kept wandering to those two blanks on the certificate where the names of his biological mother and father were supposed to be. That was strange. Even if you didn't want your children to be able to contact you, didn't they usually note the parents' names anyway? For medical emergencies and the like? So what did it mean, those two white spaces? Maybe they hadn't had the information. But why? Had Isumi been abandoned by a teenage mother too shamed by her out-of-wedlock birth to keep her infant son? Or had his real mother and father died in the Tokyo earthquakes in 1999? Maybe someone crawled into the burned-out wreckage of a house in search of survivors and found a little dark-haired baby squawling next to a loving couple no longer able to tell the firemen who they were. Or maybe there was some scandalous secret behind his birth involving celebrtities and important personages in the highest ranks of gov--   
  
No, Isumi reflected, it was the earthquake thing. It _had_ to be the earthquake thing--it was the only thing appropriately tragic to fit his life. No chance to meet the people who had brought him into the world, no way to get in contact with any extended family, no one to tell him about the brothers and sisters that might be out there, or where he got his left-handedness, his violet eyes--   
  
Just before Isumi sank deeper into The Neverending Pit of Despair, the phone rang.   
  
He already knew who it was, and wasn't entirely sure he wanted to speak to Waya at this time, in this condition. But he _was_ sure that if he didn't pick up the phone, Waya would feel compelled to come to him directly, and Isumi was a horrible liar when what plagued his mind was something he didn't feel like discussing.   
  
"Hello?"   
  
"Isumi-san? It's me."   
  
"Hi." Isumi forced himself to smile, hoping that the more effort he put into his act, the more believable it would seem (even if Waya couldn't see his face). "What's up?"   
  
"Nothing really--I just thought you guys might come over today ... that and I wondered if I could borrow B-Boy Zip number 4..."   
  
Isumi jolted and nearly dropped the phone. "You want _what_?"   
  
On the other end Waya giggled like a maniac. "It's for a school project, Isumi-san."   
  
"Waya ....you dropped out of school two years ago."   
  
"Independent Study, then."   
  
Isumi frowned, his dark hair brushing softly against his nose as he shook his head sadly. "Sorry--I don't think I have that volume."   
  
"Really? Holes in the grand collection, Isumi-san?"   
  
"There is no _collection_." Isumi knotted up, the tip of his shoulders practically touching his ears. "I just bought that one by accident because I didn't know what it was!!"   
  
"Ahh, so you were drawn to it by instinct, Isumi-san?"   
  
"So you just called to make fun of me, then..."   
  
"No, not really." Waya's bright, apologetic smile definitely came through the phone line, and whatever anger Isumi felt fell away. It was hard to stay mad at Waya for his gentle teasing. He only really picked on those he cared about, after all--everyone else was either ignored or publicly ridiculed. Even though Isumi felt this quality should dance across all his major insecurities and make him withdraw far away from the people that were his friends, he couldn't help feeling very comfortable and relaxed around Waya's clumsy albeit honest affection.   
  
"I called to make sure you're coming over today. You have a game tomorrow right? I thought you might want to spend some time alone studying for it..."   
  
As it turned out being alone was the last thing that Isumi wanted, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his thoughts from wandering back to the circumstances of his birth either. Waya would pick up on his troubled spirit immediately, so much so that it wouldn't surprise Isumi if he stood up and declared "You're adopted, aren't you, Isumi-san?" on the spot. Hikaru would be gleefully oblivious but would still manage to make inappropriate comments that seemed to hit home as surely as if he knew what was going on. The rest would maintain a quiet but faithful observance of the tense undertones running through Waya's one room apartment. It would be difficult--maybe impossible--to keep the discovery to himself under those conditions.   
  
He didn't know how their opinions of him would change if they knew. And he was certain that he didn't have the self confidence to convince them that he was still the same person he had always been.   
  
"Waya ... how important do you think a person's parents are to other people?"   
  
"Huh?"   
  
He could see those young gold eyes-- usually clever and sympathetic-- blinking oddly, Waya's nose scrunching up softly while his eyebrows made sharp disapproving angles as he tried to determine what Isumi was really asking him. The mental image made Isumi want to curl up and away from the receiver so as not to face judgement from the other end of the line.   
  
"Isumi-san?..."   
  
"Turns out ... I'm adopted."   
  
Isumi swallowed the lump that had been growing in his throat. There, he'd said it. He'd been planning to hide it from everyone just as it had been hidden from him for so long. But it seemed right for Waya to know such an intimate secret. Like it was some offering he was making to his best friend, a gift only for Waya...   
  
"Oh... do you know who your real parents are?"   
  
Isumi imagined Waya tilting his head cutely and maybe even smiling at him. The words were coated with such a fine layer of curiosity and affection that even though Isumi couldn't completely relax about the issue, he did feel much better knowing that he wasn't being outright rejected.   
  
"No... I can't find anything that even gives me a name."   
  
"Are you going to try to find out?"   
  
"You mean like...hire a private detective?"   
  
"Sure! Why not? I mean, even if you can never accept them as your parents, if it'll make you feel better about things you should _definitely_ find out."   
  
Isumi had not purposely given any indication that what he had discovered bothered him more than it would anyone else, but he supposed Waya knew him well enough to sense how vulnerable he was to these kind of distractions. Distractions could be deadly to a career that was dependent on winning games of intense concentration.   
  
He shifted the phone onto his shoulder.   
  
To the Japanese, the family was a very important unit, and finding out that the people you had been honoring as father and mother were not your father and mother at all and that the spirits of your real ancestors were being ignored was a disturbing one. Isumi's time at the Chinese Go Institute had helped him to keep his emotions from disrupting his game play, but Waya knew better than to assume that he could go on completely unaffected.   
  
"And if they're really horrible people?" Isumi asked softly.   
  
"Ignoring it won't change the way things are, Isumi-san. You shouldn't let it drag you down. After all, we don't adore you because of who your parents are ... it's because you can drive and treat us to food if we whine long enough."   
  
Isumi laughed before he reached for the phone book under his desk. Waya was right, if the answers would free his mind from the weight of his past then he should find the answers.   
  
"Thank you, Way--"   
  
"Don't mention it--we'll see you next Saturday then I guess. You can bring us snacks to make up for your absence today. Good luck!"   
  
Waya had hung up the phone almost before Isumi realized he has spoken. Already his mind was racing ahead with the possibilities as he flipped quickly through the fat yellow book in his lap. It was an old phone book, so he probably couldn't count on many of the businesses still being open, but it would give him a place to start.   
  
Maybe he would never find the identity of his biological parents. Maybe he'd regret that he had ever tried to track them down. But with the opportunity to learn something about himself, he could hardly turn down a peek into the fate that had brought him into the world.   
  
And he found that these minor details of reality left him as soon as his eyes caught sight of a modestly sized ad.   
  


CLAMP Campus Detectives  
03-8015-1004

  
********   
  
"I'll sign it 'courtesy of your devoted daughter,' all right?"   
  
The woman on line giggled and blushed, turning her face away to hide her amusement at the suggestive overtones in her idol's voice.   
  
Dr. Sakurazuka Seishirou's first book had been sitting at a modestly successful position on the bestseller list for many weeks. "All in the Family : Intimacy and Close Relations" hadn't set the world of Self Help ablaze, but it was a humble success as far as the author was concerned. Besides, though the part of literary idol amused him terribly, Seishirou just wasn't interested in all the bother of being top of the charts. He had enough trouble putting up with book signings, interviews and promotional parties as it was--he'd hate to see what life was like should he publish something that seriously took off.   
  
"Sakurazuka-san, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist we wrap things up now," Seishirou's unusually young, unusually creepy agent said as he pointed to his watch with a smile. "You have an interview in an hour, and it would be in very bad taste if you were late."   
  
Seishirou was probably the only person who didn't think it was weird to have a Junior High Schooler managing his affairs. But then he had always been fond of children and Hiiragizawa was so capable and efficient as a literary agent. It was hard to refuse quality work.   
  
"Now, now, some of these people have been waiting on line for hours--I think I can sign a few more."   
  
Seishirou smiled warmly and picked his black felt tip pen once more. "Now ... how should I autograph yours, Sir?"   
  
"How about 'Best wishes from a cock-sucking inbred son of a bitch'?"   
  
Seishirou glanced up in mid-autograph. The gentleman standing in front of him was dressed in a long flowing pastel kimono that only managed to make his coloration seem even paler by contrast. He looked a little weird among the modern dressed bookstore crowd, but if he noticed the stares, he gave no indication.   
  
"Ah, Kakyou, always good to see you. And _conscious_, too. My, this is a treat. I wasn't aware that you were a fan."   
  
The stroke of Seishirou's pen was flawless as he jotted down 'Best wishes from _**your**_ cock-sucking inbred son of a bitch' on the inside of the book's cover. Kakyou snatched his now-autographed book back and threw it at Seishirou's head--a shot which Seishirou ducked easily. Eriol gave only an amused smile as the book whizzed right past his head and knocked over the large pyramid book display that had been setup for the event. Bookstore employees squawked and scurried about to pick up the new hard cover books that had been scattered all over the floor.   
  
Seishirou looked back at the ruined display and the excitable store employees and shook his head sadly.   
  
"Was that really necessary? You're making a scene. Honestly, I think I liked you a whole lot more when you laid in your corner and moped. This whole aggressive, decisiveness _thing_ doesn't suit you."   
  
"Well to have their side pick a fight for once is an interesting change of pace," Eriol purred from his seat.   
  
"Hmmm... True," Seishirou admitted. "And Kakyou-kun's so cute when he's messing with destiny."   
  
Kakyou scowled and drew out his highly polished Desert Eagle 44 Magnum from where it had been strapped to his thigh. Of course, since he was wearing a kimono, that meant flashing half the crowd, but the sudden emergence of a handgun in a packed bookstore sent them scattering around the bookstore like a swarm of excited bees, knocking over displays and pushing over others in their frantic attempts to get the hell out.   
  
Seishirou raised an eyebrow.   
  
"I'm not sure we should do this now. None of us are properly attired." He grinned. "_You're_ more than half-clothed."   
  
Kakyou glared.   
  
"We'll just have to make do."  
********   
  
"Isumi-kun?"   
  
Isumi looked up into the secretary's kind, expectant eyes. He nodded quickly, feeling helplessly shy all of a sudden as he cradled the one clue he had about his real parents in his lap.   
  
It had taken all the courage he had to broach the subject of his adoption with his parents--or, well, his "parents," he supposed now. Things could never be the same now that their the secret was exposed, and even though he still loved them and vice-versa ... the change was already obvious. Everything was suddenly awkward, and Isumi suspected it would be some time before the three of them could look each other in the eye without having to turn away suddenly.   
  
And what he'd learned seemed hardly worth the heartache--his parents hadn't known much more about their son's birth than he did. They had, however, nearly knocked him out of his chair when they told him that they had found him on their doorstep in a basket one morning. No, really, they said. The doorbell rang, they answered it, and there he was, a sweet young child sobbing in the cold, early spring morning, in a basket, with nothing but a blanket to shield him from the chill.   
  
There _was_ one other thing in the basket besides though. Isumi held his inheritance to his line of sight. It was positively the oddest thing he had ever heard of leaving with a child. Weren't lockets and pocketwatches more _de rigeur_? Still, strange as it was, it spoke volumes about his biological parents.   
  
Of course, he had to figure out what it was saying first.   
  
He was going to find out, no matter how horrible and strange these people were, he was going to find out....   
  
He tucked the knick-knack away in his pocket and followed the secretary into the office. Sitting in the large leather chair behind the desk was a dark haired man in a crisp (and probably horrendously expensive) business suit casually going through a stack of file folders.   
  
Isumi swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped forward a bit.   
  
"Imonoyama-san?"   
  
The man looked up quickly and smiled.   
  
"Ah ... you must be Isumi-kun, please sit down." He gestured to a seat in front of his desk and Isumi, not trusting his legs to hold him through all that was required of him, gratefully accepted. Isumi moved to start explaining his situation when he found himself listening to the one thing he hadn't wanted to hear.   
  
"I'm sorry to tell you that the CLAMP Campus Detectives haven't accepted any new cases in years."   
  
"Ohh.... I see," Isumi forced himself to say. "But ... when I talked to you on the phone you were so excited about the idea..."   
  
The man's face twisted into a sharp frown and Isumi immediately tried to apologize for his thoughtless comment, but strangely, Imonoyama-san did not appear to be annoyed with _him_ at all. Isumi found himself a little confused.   
  
"I'm afraid I was being hasty. The fact is, I have too many responsibilities to handle now, so there's no way we could possibly take your case. But I will be sure to have my secretary put you in touch with a few very capable detectives."   
  
Well, that was reasonable enough--positively generous, actually, given how busy the Imonoyamas must be. Still, Imonoyama-san's enthusiasm had made Isumi so hopeful...   
  
"Takamura-san? Takamura-san? Have you seen the budget projections anywhere around?"   
  
The man behind the desk crumpled.   
  
Isumi looked up to find the voice belonging to a black haired man, perhaps a year or two younger, with his own collection of folders and papers clamped under his arm. He was trailing a blonde man in another crisp (and probably horrendously expensive) business suit who had emerged from the adjoining room and blinked curiously at them both.   
  
"Takamura-san, what are you doing in Rijichou's chair?"   
  
Souh sighed. He pushed away from the desk and left his seat.   
  
"Nothing, Ijyuuin. I was just explaining to Isumi-kun" a small nod in his direction. "That we disbanded the CLAMP Campus Detectives to focus on our work as administrators here."   
  
"But that's not what you sa--"   
  
"Isumi-kun?" Nokoru asked. "Oh yes, now I remember! We spoke on the phone!"   
  
A few long, elegant strides put him back in the chair Souh had just vacated. He smiled warmly at Isumi, although Isumi could hardly ignore the soft grumble of the thwarted Souh or feel very comfortable in this situation as it was. He had a feeling that what Imonoyama-san called "a case" Takamura-san called "a distraction."   
  
"If you're busy--"   
  
"There _is_ a lot of work I should be doing," Nokoru said firmly, "but that's boring and this sounds like an adventure!"   
  
Akira clapped his hands expectantly and looked excited.   
  
"I thought we only helped young _ladies_ in trouble," Suoh half-glowered.   
  
"Well, it's been so long since we've worked on an actual case--I think we can make an exception!" Nokoru flashed a brilliant grin. "So, Isumi-kun, why don't you tell us everything and we'll get started right away?"   
  
"Well..." Isumi began, "there's not much to tell really. About twenty years ago, my real parents left me on a doorstep with this. Do you think you can help me out?"   
  
Isumi placed the trinket on Nokoru's desk. The detectives spent an uncomfortably long time staring at the pencil sharpener model of Tokyo Tower before Nokoru shot a worried glance at his companions. 


	2. The Strange Habits of Bishounen

  
  
The nurse was puzzled. It had been her experience that most people, when confronted with a loved one in coma, would do one of three things: cry; stare stoically for a minute before leaving the room to cry in private; or fall onto said loved one, scream "WHY GOD WHY?!", and then cry their eyes out. Whatever the specifics, it was generally a very moist affair--hence the extra tissues in her front pocket.   
  
But the guy in 801 was not only _not_ crying, but actually _bitching_ at the pale lanky guy lying in the bed, and the nurse didn't know what to do about _that._ If he'd just tear up a little, then she'd be on familiar ground; she could ease him into a chair, put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and go get him something from the vending machine to calm his nerves. But no such luck. He ranted and raved as if the man were awake and actively engaged in conversation. Suspecting the boy was in shock, she tried to very calmly and very soothingly to explain that his friend was in a coma.   
  
"Yeah, I _know,"_ he replied testily. Then he turned back to the man and shouted, "Now quit _lying_ there and start TALKING, you son of a bitch!"   
  
At which point the nurse decided to go see how things were going over in pediatrics.   
  
Once she was gone, Kamui sighed and flopped down in the chair beside the bed. He pulled Kakyou's hand into his, stroked the long fingers, touched the white palm to his cheek, sighed again.   
  
"Idiot. Was that really necessary?"   
  
No answer save the steady beep of monitors.   
  
Then the air around Kakyou rippled, expanded, and suddenly the Dreamscape boiled slow and cold across the room, drowning reality beneath it. Kamui no longer flinched when the dark swept over him--you got used to it after a while--but somehow, the fundamental strangeness of it never faded, at least not for him. It was a curiosity that he never really got over.   
  
"Yes, it was," Kakyou answered, his dreamself sitting up in what had suddenly become their bed back home. "I wanted to explore a dream a little more."   
  
Kamui's frown deepened into a scowl.   
  
"So you picked a fight with Seishirou--"   
  
"And Eriol."   
  
"--_and_ Eriol just to put yourself in a coma? You could have been _killed!"_   
  
  
  
Kakyou shrugged; Kamui sagged. It was no use getting mad at a masochist. Still, just once, couldn't he fall for a guy with a vested interest in survival?   
  
"I thought we agreed--no more hardcore Dreamgazing. Not when this is what it takes."   
  
The one good thing about the Apocalypse--if there had been anything good about it--was that the machinations of Fate had put Kakyou into the perfect state for Dreamgazing: an impenetrable coma that he could only wake up from on the Promised Day. Well, that Day had come, he'd woken up, and now, getting back into a deep enough state of unconsciousness to see the future required efforts herculean and almost always near-fatal.   
  
_That_ was the part that bugged Kamui, who rather liked the little thing the two of them had going and wanted Kakyou to stick around for a bit. So he rid the house of sleeping pills and cough syrup, threw out anything stronger than children's vitamins, and even kept a close watch on how warm Kakyou's milk was. Not that it did much good--Kakyou kept finding new and surprisingly creative ways to put himself into comas when he felt the urgent need to scry. On this occasion, he'd taken out a bookstore, half a city block and very nearly himself--who knew what might happen next time?   
  
Kamui really wished there was a 12-step program for this kind of thing.   
  
"It was something I thought you'd be interested in," was Kakyou's faint and cryptic answer.   
  
"Please don't be faint and cryptic. You know I hate that."   
  
"Sorry--force of habit."   
  
"Right. Now what is it?"   
  
"...........did you take fresh flowers to Sorata's grave today?"   
  
Kamui squirmed.   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"What'd you bring him?"   
  
"Lilies."   
  
"Ahhh. He liked them?"   
  
"Yeah, I think so. But stop avoiding the question--what was so important that it made you break your promise?"   
  
Kakyou looked away, not so much away from Kamui as into the void   
  
"I caught a hint of it in a dream a few days ago. It seems someone affiliated with the Go Institute has hired Subaru Sumeragi..."   
  
The color in Kamui's face drained away.   
  
"The Go Institute? ... Subaru?"   
  
"I'd thought you'd like to know for certain." Kakyou smirked just a bit, his eyes flashing with catlike sharpness. "You're not much for ambiguity."   
  
"Yeah, it tends to get me run through with pointy metal objects. The Go Institute...Subaru...Is there anything else?"   
  
"The boy knows."   
  
The look in Kamui's eyes was like an audible 'snap'. Five or six different emotions warred across his features. Finally, anxious, angry fear won out.   
  
"Does _he_ know?"   
  
"Not yet. But if Subaru finds him first, he might not bother to tell him. Omitting certain little truths would make it much easier to get what he wants, after all."   
  
Kamui fell deep into thought, his frown set deeper, his expression more reflective as he mulled over the possibilities playing themselves out in his head. From the look on his face, some were downright ghastly. Kakyou watched but said nothing. Whatever they were to each other now, this was something from before, territory on which Kakyou was reluctant to tread. This business, and the decision as to handle it, belonged to Kamui alone.   
  
At last, a slow but firm resolution came from Kamui:   
  
"I don't want him to know if I can help it. From what I've seen, he's had a good life, and he's such a sweet boy..."   
  
Kamui's expression grew soft, slightly wistful, then hardened into a low-grade scowl.   
  
"But when you factor in certain Sumeragi _inclinations..._"   
  
"Are you saying it could be inevitable?"   
  
Kamui looked up sharply at the Dreamgazer.   
  
"_Nothing_ is inevitable." He grinned a bit. "Proved that once before, didn't I, Mr. 'The Future Has Already Been Decided'?"   
  
Kakyou's long hair hid the very slightest blush.   
  
"I think you have to agree, those were..._unusual_ circumstances. Even I couldn't have predicted _that._"   
  
"Look, I didn't put myself through everything I did to just give up and let Subaru have his way." He clasped Kakyou's hand tightly. "We can _do_ this--it's like the last eighteen years have been preparation for this day."   
  
"Mmmmm....What about Borgia?"   
  
"Do you really think they'll give us trouble?"   
  
"It's not as if they're above playing with us for their amusement."   
  
"Well, if they interfere, we'll handle it then. But first, I have to try and put up a few road blocks in Subaru's path to buy some time for you to heal up...Idiot."   
  
Kakyou answered Kamui's smile with one of his own.   
  
********   
  
Subaru really didn't understand kids today. Nor did he understand why he was being paid to stalk a young, slightly airheaded teenage boy. He didn't mind, but he wasn't used to doing this kind of work when it didn't involve quickly piercing the boy's heart and feeding him to the Tree under the cover of night. You got used to that pattern after a while, and not finishing it left Subaru feeling...unfulfilled. But the Sumeragi household had made clear that he was just to _observe_ the boy--no touching, taunting, molesting, or killing.   
  
Subaru had to snort at that. He might not be the most upstanding member of the Sumeragi clan any more, but he was hardly incapable of controlling himself. Actually, he felt slightly insulted that the clan was letting itself be hired out to indulge a Go prodigy in his sexual obsession with his closest rival, which was obviously what this was really all about. Subaru had been tailing the young Shindou Hikaru for days now and had detected nothing especially unusual about him. He _did_ have the remnants of a spiritual presence in his aura, which could mean that he had been possessed at one point, but it was equally likely that someone very close to him had died recently. Even if he really had been possessed, the spirit had clearly left him already, so there was no reason for an onmyouji to be involved.   
  
More to the point, during his observations he had noticed the way Shindou Hikaru and his client Touya Akira reacted to one another--the long looks, the way they ignored all other worthy opponents, the way they fought like cats and dogs over the smallest difference of opinion. It was painfully obvious what was going on, perhaps to everyone else except them.   
  
"Che` ... kids," Subaru sighed as he leaned his head on his left hand, watching Hikaru weave his way down the sidewalk below him. In the course of his life, the onmyouji had had reason to both love _and_ hate this Tokyo, but he had to admit that it was an absolutely perfect city for following people from above, full of tall buildings, telephone poles, and streetlights that allowed the psychically-gifted stalker to keep a close eye on his target without being noticed.   
  
Of course, usually, he was trying to pick out someone to make into plant food.   
  
Hikaru had apparently reached his destination, given the way he ran up to the red haired boy Subaru had seen several times earlier that week--Waya Yoshitaka, according to Subaru's sources. Over the past two days, the brats had been thrown out of not one, not two, but three different arcades for their antics. What was really awful, though, was that it was the only vaguely normal teenage activity the boys ever indulged in. Other than that, Shindou's life seemed almost pathetically dull and routine. On the days he didn't have some kind of real work to do, he would go play/argue/angst/exchange meaningful glances with Touya Akira at the Go club (where they had apparently met). After those two had managed to wear themselves out, Hikaru would go to a different club across town where certain patrons seemed overly fond of scrubbing his head with their fists. Sometimes he would go to the Go Institute and study their records for hours on end. At one point or another, he would meet up with the redheaded boy, and then they'd go study Go together, either by themselves or with others. Sometimes they would go to the arcade (and get thrown out) or the movies (and leave with more popcorn in their hair than in their stomachs), but mostly they seemed not to veer very far from the eating, sleeping, drinking, and dreaming Go pattern.   
  
These kids had less of a life than he did ... it was kind of sad.   
  
Today there was another person waiting with Waya Yoshitaka-kun. He was a bit tall for a Japanese boy, but otherwise nothing extraordinary. Dark hair, fair complexion, dressed a little neater but in the same general style as the other two ... pretty much a normal Japanese kid.   
  
"Oi! Shindou, you're late!"   
  
_Well of course he's late ... he spent 15 minutes trying to decide between manga and a new Joseki book_, Subaru thought.   
  
"Sorry!" Hikaru grinned brightly. "So where are we going?"   
  
Waya-kun looked expectantly at the other boy in their company and despite sitting cross-legged on top of a streetlight Subaru could feel himself nodding off. These were young kids, still in the prime of their youth and full of life ... shouldn't they be doing something interesting like clubbing, boozing, or fucking? Or at the very least loitering on public property? He wanted to just _shake_ them.   
  
"What do you think, Isumi-san?"   
  
"McDonalds first ... I'm starving."   
  
Subaru opened his eyes again lazily.   
  
_Hmmm... he sounds almost like Kamui. Except a bit lighter and softer. Maybe what Kamui's voice would have sounded like if he hadn't spent the better part of his life screaming in anguish..._   
  
Then as Subaru watched,albeit mildly disinterested, 'Isumi-san' turned and his face for the first time became clearly visible.   
  
Subaru nearly fell off his perch, which would have been very bad since nothing blows a person's cover better than suddenly falling out of the sky and slamming face-first into the sidewalk.   
  
What he had seen, just for an instant, were shy, long-lashed eyes so dark indigo they were almost violet. In a country where ordinary, pale blue eyes were uncommon, this shade was practically nonexistant. There was something in their gaze that painted a portrait of shy sadness, like a lonely person who's still afraid to be touched.   
  
There couldn't be that many people with eyes like that. Unless Fuuma had extended his eye swapping services beyond the Promised Day, which Subaru highly doubted.   
  
In fact, Subaru could think of only two people in the entire country that had eyes that color. One was Shirou Kamui, who this boy clearly wasn't, and the second was....   
  
The second was...   
  
Subaru's face split into a grin. Things were starting to get interesting.   
  
"Well, hello there ... Isumi-kun."   
  
*********   
  
"Yes, he came here." CLAMP Campus Detective Ijyuuin Akira confirmed.   
  
Kamui moved his cellphone to his other ear as the heat from it was giving him the odd impression it was frying his brain cells one by one.   
  
"Well...I suppose I should have guessed..."   
  
Perhaps experience had made Kamui a bit fatalistic afterall, because he was not surprised that things were knitting together in this fashion. Kakyou's dream, one of Isumi's Go-playing friends hiring Subaru of all people...too many coincidences were piling up all of a sudden. So it seemed perfectly logical to Kamui that when Isumi started looking into his past, he'd somehow end up getting in touch with Nokoru and company. Who else? And he had, so there was another instance to add to the list. Something was coming to a head.   
  
_I just hope I don't end up pinned to a wall with broken glass again, Kamui thought bitterly. I didn't mind the licking so much, but that fucking HURT._   
  
He blanched.   
  
_Oh God, or worse, what if--AGH, NOT AGAIN!_   
  
"Shirou-san?"   
  
Kamui nearly jumped out of his skin. He nearly dropped the phone.   
  
"Ah, sorry about that--guess I sorta zoned out for a minute. So Isumi _has_ been in touch with you?"   
  
"Yes, and Rijichou's agreed to take on his case. Which is why I thought it best to inform you of the matter."   
  
"I thought you guys didn't do that anymore."   
  
Akira laughed.   
  
"I think Rijichou's bored."   
  
"Shit...does he know about--"   
  
"Please don't worry, Shirou-san--we know how sensitive an issue this is. We haven't told him anything. So far as Isumi-san knows, there's nothing unusual about his case. We've been stalling a bit, and I think we can keep it up a while longer before he starts getting suspicious. "But Shirou-san, I think you should probably tell him yourself, before..."   
  
"I know ... but first thing's first. I need to take care of Subaru--_then_ I'll tell Isumi."   
  
Akira made a little puzzled noise.   
  
"I still don't understand why you didn't just make him a ward of--"   
  
"It's just...he looked so happy. They already had two other boys by then...He had a family and two little brothers...I...look, don't make me get sentimental here, I'm right in the middle of the street."   
  
Actually, he was standing in front of the Go Institute, which looked more or less as exciting as the name made it sound. Looking up at the massive building Kamui began to wonder how their fates had landed in a place like this. Who would have thought back in those days of 1999 of love and betrayal, seals and angels and kekkai, when the fate of the entire world was on the line, that it would come to this. That this place would become the corner stone of Kamui's most important conflict.   
  
After a pause, Akira's voice came back.   
  
"I apologize, Shirou-san. We're just concerned about Isumi-kun's well being. And yours."   
  
"I appreciate that."   
  
Kamui closed his cellphone and stared sharply at the building in front of him. There was no question in his mind that he had to stop Subaru before it was too late.   
  
His eyes darted towards the Institute's main doors, where a boy who matched the description of Touya Akira was just stepping out into the afternoon sun. Kamui knew he had to get the Go pro to fire Subaru, but he still wasn't sure how to do that. He was pretty sure Akira wouldn't believe the truth, and being vague and mysterious only seemed to work for Fuuma (it was those damn little sunglasses, Kamui was sure of it). The only alternative was the "urgent demand from a stranger" routine, but that only gave him one chance to succeed. If he came on too strong, the boy would assume Kamui was some kind of psychopath who was obviously not to be believed, and might even call the cops. But if he didn't make his case adequately then the urgency of the matter wouldn't be conveyed, and the boy might do nothing, which would be almost as bad as doing the wrong thing.   
  
Dammit dammit _dammit!_   
  
Kamui approached Akira slowly, not wanting to alert the boy until he was close enough to be heard at a whisper. He kept his pace casual and his eyes unfocused as if he was in a world all his own. Never before was he aware of how much work it took just to look like an utterly ignorable pedestrian.   
  
He was two paces away from his target when a red sports car pulled up to the curb in front of the boy.   
  
A tinted window rolled down with liquid smoothness, revealing the face of an older blonde man--mid to late twenties, Kamui guessed. The man smiled and pushed his glasses up with two fingers, his white suit standing out against the dark interior of the car like snow on blacktop.   
  
"Hello, Akira-kun."   
  
"Ogata-sensei," Akira replied, a slight frown on his face.   
  
"Done with your game already?"   
  
"It was not as exciting as I had hoped."   
  
"How unfortunate." Ogata's smile broadened in a manner that was all too familiar to Kamui. "Perhaps you'd like to play a game or two with me?"   
  
"I would be honored," Akira replied, a very slight edge to his voice. "It's my goal to reach the level at which I can surpass you."   
  
Ogata simply opened the passenger side door and motioned for Akira to get in, choosing not to comment on Akira's impolite forwardness. As they drove off, Kamui couldn't help frowning to himself. He recognized pedophelia when he saw it, if only from years of experience.   
  
Then Kamui smiled. Maybe he'd missed his chance...but he'd just found his angle.   
  
*******   
  
"Ow ... Ow ... OW!! Be careful with that, will you?"   
  
"Now, now, don't be a baby. It can't possibly hurt that much."   
  
"It wouldn't if you weren't deliberately trying to make it _worse._"   
  
Fuji Shuusuke looked up from his needlework and smiled. In turn, Seishirou called on every ounce of self-control in his body to repress the shudder that was trying desperately to jump into his shoulders so as to better announce his unease to the world. In the two weeks that he'd known Fuji, Seishirou had never seen him without a smile. It was a friendly smile--never a hint of anything sarcastic, sadistic, or insincere to it. But it still disturbed the hell out of the man, which he thought was a mark of just how goddamn creepy this kid was. Even he couldn't keep up the evil genki face for this long.   
  
The former Sakurazukamori looked at the stitches running across his arm, then glared at the boy.   
  
"Don't think I don't know you're stabbing me with that needle deliberately."   
  
"Is telepathy a family trait too?" The smile quirked but never faltered from it's perfect position. "I have so much to learn."   
  
Seishirou hissed as the thread pulled taut through his skin.   
  
He'd never intended to make a junior high school tennis player a member their little organization. Seishirou and Eriol had been managing things fine on their own up to that point, and neither saw the need to add to their ranks.   
  
But then, sometimes, things just happened. Seishirou had been intrigued by that photo in the junior high school tennis magazine Yuuto had loaned him, and, seeing as how he'd been a long-time admirer of pretty boys in shorts anway, he'd dropped in on a local tournament to see if any of the Seigaku regulars liked sakura. There, he'd met Fuji, and found, to his surprise, that the boy was a Sakurazuka. All the signs were there to see: creepy smiles, slight sadistic streak, unholy possessive nature, and of course, the magic (that last "triple counter" was almost blatantly obvious, Seishirou thought). Somehow, the two of them were related, although the family was so large and inbred that Seishirou wasn't sure how yet.   
  
"Oops--out of thread. Sit tight a minute."   
  
"You're dragging this out on purpose."   
  
"Please relax, Seishirou-san." Fuji's smile, if at all possible, became brighter and simultaneously more disturbing. Seishirou wished for a cigarette. No, an entire carton of cigarettes.   
  
"Why does Eriol always disappear when his magic would come in handy?"   
  
Fuji sat down with a freshly-threaded needle and pulled the older man's arm back into his lap.   
  
"Maybe he thinks you should learn to be more careful in battle."   
  
Seishirou made a dismissive noise.   
  
"Can I help it if Kakyou filed his nails specially for my flesh?"   
  
Despite the fact that Seishirou had absolutely crushed the Dreamgazer in battle (there was something curiously unfulfilling about putting Kakyou in a coma), the skinny yumemi had managed to carve a few very nasty marks into Seishirou's body. Some of them might even scar if Eriol didn't see it fit to fulfill his duties as the resident magician of their small but passionate organization.   
  
Why Kakyou had ambushed them at the book signing was puzzling--he and Kamui together could do little against Borgia, so what in the world did he hope to accomplish on his own? Kamui did seem to inspire a bizarre 'die for justice' impulse in the people he met, but still...   
  
Seishirou might--the needle pierced his flesh again--WOULD have murdered Kakyou if Kamui hadn't shown up just in time. He really should start keeping a tighter leash on his Dreamgazing boy toy, Seishirou reflected bitterly.   
  
"You have a consultation on Thursday."   
  
Seishirou looked down and saw the gash on his arm neatly sewn up. Fuji was in the corner tying his shoes.   
  
"Good, some young innocent child will suffer because I'm cranky and you're a sadistic little bastard. Cycles of pain are fun."   
  
The boy's refined, carefully sculpted smile twitched a little bit at the word 'innocent.' Seishirou regarded Fuji for a cold moment, dimly aware that the tennis prodigy was probably omitting something important but decided for whatever reason not to pursue the matter any further.   
  
"Che.." he snorted. "Psychopath."   
  
Fuji picked up his bag.   
  
"If that's all you need me for today, then I'll be going."   
  
Seishirou nodded and added, "don't forget--you've got a fitting on Friday."   
  
"I won't. I wouldn't miss it."   
  
As Seishirou watched Fuji swing his tennis bag over his shoulder and walked out of the room he revised his mental list of everything about the teenager he found unsettling. _Number 1, that smile ... Number 2, channeling the natural Sakurazuka evilness into tennis of all things ... Number 3......_   
  
_...who am I kidding? Even his shikigami are weird,_ Seishirou thought, shaking his head.   
  
*********   
  
Once the initial excitement over his discovery had passed, Subaru slowed down and decided to be practical about things. There was a good chance this "Isumi" was who he thought he was, but a brief look at his face and eyecolor from several meters away wasn't exactly solid evidence to act on. It wasn't that Subaru feared pursuing the wrong prey-- it wasn't like the Sakura would mind cleaning up his mistakes in any case-- but if he was going to put his time and energy into doing something, he wanted to make sure it was worth the effort.   
  
Fortunately, getting the information he needed shouldn't be a problem. Shindou's schedule was predictable enough; all Subaru had to do was lean against this wall and wait...   
  
An hour later, a 16-year-old blonde streak crushed a pair of cigarette butts into ash as it flew round the corner, aiming for the stairs and searching desperately for that stupid goddamn pass that was never where he left it-   
  
"Was he a friendly spirit, or did he torment you?"   
  
In spite of its casual tone, the speech was carefully calculated: just loud enough for Hikaru to hear and just off-handed enough to thoroughly disturb him. Likewise, the words had been selected so that they would go unnoticed if Subaru was wrong about the boy.   
  
But if he was right ... they would smack him over the head like a two by four.   
  
The boy stopped dead in his tracks. Subaru allowed himself a small smile, which he banished quickly as Shindou turned toward him. The expression that met the onmyouji was familiar enough to a man used to dealing with the relatives of the dearly departed: anxiety, suspicion, and longing blended together and topped with a thick layer of curiosity. The latter was particularly strong here: Shindou looked like he had a million questions on his mind but couldn't get his mouth to form the correct sounds to ask just one.   
  
So Subaru took the initiative.   
  
"Do you know what an onmyouji is?" he asked, taking a step forward.   
  
Hikaru shook his head dumbly.   
  
"No..."   
  
"I communicate with the dead."   
  
"You know Sai?"   
  
Apparently this 'Sai' was something of a rough edge for Shindou Hikaru, judging by how young his voice suddenly sounded and how his eyes filled with uncertain hope. This wasn't the obnoxious (yet admirably determined) 16-year-old Subaru had been watching--instead, he seemed more like a lost child.   
  
"I can see traces of him in you, but no, not directly."   
  
"Do you think ... could I talk to him?" Hikaru asked reluctantly.   
  
Subaru was oddly flattered by the hesitation in his voice. Most of the people he dealt with acted as though onmyoujis were little more than telephone operators to the afterlife, and accorded them all the respect due thereof. Yet this teenage boy-who was no exemplar of proper behavior, based on Subaru's observations--was pushing aside an overwhelming desire to speak with the soul he had lost out of consideration for the older man. Subaru, who had long thought his capacity for compassionate response drained from his emotional palette, was charmed by this, and by Hikaru's sudden naked earnesty. Almost charmed enough to feel bad about how he intended to use him.   
  
Almost...   
  
"Once a soul moves on, no, probably not," he told Hikaru frankly. "But sometimes the dead do appear to us in dreams. Although I think it's only fair to tell you that despite being an onmyouji for many years, I've never been visited by my departed mentor in that fashion." Subaru carefully neglected to mention that might have something to do with the man's soul being bonded to an evil tree.   
  
"But there's so much I want to know!" Hikaru protested. "Why did he leave? Is he mad at me? Is he at peace now? What--"   
  
"This is a horrible place to talk," Subaru interrupted, frowning at the crowd as if he hadn't planned this an hour ago. "I'll make you a deal. You answer my questions, and I'll help you with yours. Okay?" 


	3. Shindou Hikaru, Master of Subtlety

  
  
And so Shindou Hikaru found himself sitting at an ice-cream parlor in the middle of Tokyo with a strange older man eating strawberry ice cream. Hikaru didn't really like strawberry ice cream, but it apparently came part and parcel with the spiritual Q&A--Subaru insisted it was the shop's specialty and his young friend just _had_ to try it.   
  
All in all, Hikaru thought the man looked _entirely_ too happy about the bowl in front of him. It was strange to see a man his age so pleased by sweets ... but then again, most of the adults in Hikaru's life were pretty strange. Sai acted like a two-year-old most of the time, Ogata was overly interested in bonding with minors, Kawai-san drove like a punk teenager with a fresh license and a death wish, and let's not even talk about Tsubaki-san and his unnatural love of soba. Hikaru thought that he probably ought to be used to severely odd people given that he seemed fated to encounter every last one of them on the planet, but he still expected adults to uphold a certain standard of adulthood. When they didn't, well, it was a little weird.   
  
In this case, though, Hikaru had a rare moment of tact and decided not comment on it. Besides, this weirdo was buying.   
  
"So ... how does the whole 'onmyouji' thing work, anyway?" the boy asked, the big padded seat squeaking under him as he fidgeted. Hikaru wasn't entirely sure what Subaru would be able to tell him, and since he wasn't sure what sort of information the man was going to demand in return, he was determined not to waste a single question.   
  
"It's a lot like being a therapist, actually," Subaru mused, tapping his spoon against his lower lip. "People don't stop having issues when they're dead. Basically, someone contacts you, and then you show up and talk to the ghost and try to get it to move on. Most of the time, you end up consoling the family of the departed, too."   
  
"Hmm. Sounds easy."   
  
"You'd be surprised."   
  
"But what if the spirit doesn't want to leave?"   
  
"Then it's time for ritual ass kicking."   
  
"Eh?"   
  
"You force it out."   
  
"That's horrible!"   
  
The thought of Sai being forced out of his Goban and into oblivion... Hikaru didn't even realize that he was on his feet and screaming until he heard his chair bang against the floor.   
  
By contrast, all Subaru did in response to the boy's sudden outburst was raise an eyebrow. He was annoyed--not so much by Hikaru's lack of understanding, but because the scene was drawing too much attention to their little tete a tete. In the course of his life, Subaru had found his comfort level was more or less inversely proportional the number of people who noticed him--the fewer, the better. For all he cared, the kid could start a "People for the Ethical Treatment of Spirits" rally right in the middle of the ice cream shop if it made him happy, just so long as he did it _after_ Subaru had left.   
  
"I doubt you'd be so offended if you had to live with a malicious spirit," he said finally. "Now sit down so we can get to the point. You're wasting my time."   
  
Hikaru righted his chair, flopped into it, and gave his ice cream a defiant stir. He wasn't above pouting and sulking (especially since it made him feel better), but if his little display had any effect on his audience, Subaru didn't show it.   
  
"So what happens when people die?"   
  
Subaru shrugged. "Most of the time, they're reincarnated a couple of hundred times until they reach spiritual enlightenment."   
  
"And then?"   
  
"That depends who you ask. Some people say you reach a state of unending bliss--heaven, union with the godhead, etc.; others say you fall into an endless black oblivion. I'm leaning towards the latter."   
  
"Wow ... what an optimistic perspective."   
  
"Well, despite my best efforts I've never had the pleasure, so I can't tell you one way or the other. Believe whatever you will."   
  
"I just want to know if he's happy..."   
  
Once again, teenage bluster had fallen away and revealed a hurt, vulnerable boy; once again Subaru found himself given pause. After a long moment, he said carefully:   
  
"Spirits don't normally leave if they haven't found some sense of resolution."   
  
"Really?"   
  
"Yes, really. If your Sai isn't on this plane any longer, it's more likely than not because he found satisfaction.   
  
"And now it's my turn. That was your last question."   
  
"What?!" Hikaru almost jumped out of his chair again. "That last one doesn't count!!!"   
  
Subaru raised a handful of fingers. "You got five questions; you used them up. Don't blame me."   
  
"You didn't tell me I only got _five!"_ Hikaru shouted. There was so much more he wanted to know and he wasn't anywhere _near_ the point of understanding he wanted to be. Of course he'd kind of figured Subaru might have something like this in mind ... but he thought if they got a nice dialogue going it wouldn't be an issue. Things would just sort of flow for a while, Hikaru could find out what he wanted to know about Sai, and then they'd gradually get around to what Subaru wanted. He certainly hadn't expect Subaru to be keeping count in his head.   
  
"I cut you a break--I didn't count that 'eh?' earlier. Now calm down."   
  
"No way! This wasn't part of our deal! You can't just start making up rules halfway through! That's cheawmmff!"   
  
The spoonful of strawberry ice cream Subaru had suddenly shoved into Hikaru's mouth made it impossible for the boy to continue--which was of course exactly what Subaru had in mind.   
  
"Mwfffmf ffmmm! Mmmmffmmm!" Hikaru raged. It was probably better for the impressionable little children in the room that his mouth was full.   
  
Subaru smiled.   
  
"Relax. If you can answer five of _my_ questions, you can have another round."   
  
Hikaru frowned around the spoon stuck in his mouth.   
  
"Whfwm foof fmm wmmf fm fufmm?"   
  
Subaru rolled his eyes and grabbed the spoon, meaning to yank it out of Hikaru's mouth, but the boy responded by biting down on it harder ("You'll take this plastic ice cream spoon when you pry it from my cold, dead teeth" apparently being his new mantra). Only after a five-minute round of tug-of-war had left the onmyouji appropriately ruffled did Hikaru let go.   
  
"So, what did you want to know?" he asked, smirking.   
  
Subaru beat back a momentary impulse to drive the spoon through Shindou's still-beating heart and then bury him with it under the Tree--the Sumeragi clan would just _**not**_ let that kinda thing go.   
  
Even if Subaru had excellent cause for doing so.   
  
"I want to know about that kid--"   
  
Hikaru blinked and sat up from his disrespectful slouch.   
  
"Who? Touya?"   
  
Subaru sighed again and rubbed the bridge of his nose.   
  
"No, the--"   
  
"Waya?"   
  
"No--"   
  
"Fuku?"   
  
"No!" Subaru snapped. "God, do they teach you to be this obnoxious in school or are does this come naturally?"   
  
"I'm gifted!" Hikaru grinned. "And that's one question!"   
  
Subaru gritted his teeth. Little brat ...   
  
"Fine..." he said calmly, smoothing his jacket. "Four left to go, then."   
  
"Are you _asking_ me?"   
  
Subaru glared. The spoon was so _close..._   
  
"I want you to tell me about you friend ... the older boy with the pretty eyes."   
  
Hikaru 'hmmmmm'ed and bit his lip, tapped his fingers on the table, beat a tattoo with his toes...the boy was obviously deep in thought.   
  
_At some point,_ Subaru thought, _this seemed like a really good idea. I was so ignorant in my youth._   
  
A small eternity passed by, then Hikaru snapped his fingers and said brightly, "Oh! You're talking about Isumi-san, right? That's why I couldn't get it--I never thought of him as a kid before. He's so much older than--"   
  
"Yes, him." Subaru made no apologies for the interruption--after all, Hikaru had no idea how close he'd just come to his death. Again. "I want you to tell me about him."   
  
Hikaru shrugged.   
  
"What for? He's really nice--like a big brother, I guess you could say. Why do you want to know about him?"   
  
"It's complicated."   
  
Hikaru folded his arms across his chest and sunk back into his seat.   
  
"I don't know if I should tell you anything. You could be a psychopath for all I know. After all, you wear all black and follow _children_ around--pretty creepy. How do I know you won't kill Isumi-san and bury him in a field somewhere?"   
  
Subaru blinked.   
  
"I would never do something like that. I bury people under _trees._"   
  
"Funny," Hikaru murmured as he dug another spoonful of ice-cream out of his bowl. "Still, I don't think it's right to--"   
  
"Has Isumi-kun ever done anything weird?"   
  
Hikaru stirred what remained of his ice cream while his eyes stayed locked on Subaru. He was confused by the question, that much was obvious, but there was something else... the hint of some sudden intuition, perhaps?   
  
"Wellllll...now that I think about it..."   
  
"Go ahead."   
  
"...this one time..."   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"...Isumi-san..."   
  
"_Mmmhmm?_"   
  
"...got a Go stone stuck in his navel. That was pretty weird. But I think Waya goaded him into tha--are you okay? You just fell out of your chair!"   
  
Subaru sighed and hauled himself up from the floor.   
  
"Not...weird like that ... weird like ... weird like..."   
  
Frankly Subaru didn't know what to expect from the boy he was looking for-- the boy he suspected Isumi-kun might be. He'd assumed that there would be some telltale signs that would just jump out at anyone who spent anytime with him.   
  
Things even Shindou would notice.   
  
"What I mean is, weird like--things spontaneously combusting."   
  
Hikaru gave it a moment's thought.   
  
".........no ... no ... that's more Waya's department, really."   
  
Subaru felt like banging his head against the table. To think he'd gotten his hopes up like this over a pair of purple eyes (in this age of contacts and occasional eyeball-switching, after all). But what Shindou said--that pretty much settled things, didn't it? Isumi could hardly be that boy if...   
  
_Wait. Maybe I'm looking for the wrong kind of **proof.**_   
  
Whatever the case, talking to Shindou Hikaru was getting Subaru nowhere (was, in fact, posing a real challenge to what remained of his sanity). He rose from his seat, not bothering to hide his disappointment, and lifted his coat from the chair.   
  
"Hey ... where are you going?" Hikaru shouted. "You've still got three questions left!"   
  
Subaru shrugged. "I don't want to use them just now."   
  
"But I want my next five!"   
  
"Then you'll just have to be patient."   
  
"But what about--what about Sai? You said you'd tell me more!"   
  
The boy's desperation was obvious--the little crack in his voice, the way his eyes trembled. Subaru found it hard not to sympathize. A strange man appears out of nowhere, promises to tell you about someone you thought lost to you forever, and then before he tells you anything good he says he's leaving, probably never to be seen again? Yeah, that'd hurt.   
  
But that didn't change the fact that Hikaru didn't have anything useful to tell Subaru, or that Subaru had given up the "therapist" trade (so to speak) a long time ago. Besides, he didn't have time to waste if he had to start pursuing other means of investigation.   
  
Still...even if Shindou Hikaru _was_ a disrespectful brat who made Subaru want to put his head through a wall (Shindou's, Subaru's own, either way), Subaru felt like he wanted to help him. Was he getting soft in his old age? Or was it that Hikaru's attitude reminded him of that other bratty teenager from so long ago?   
  
"I'll tell you what, Shindou-kun. You keep an eye on Isumi-kun for me, and if you notice anything I find _useful_, then I'll answer _all_ your questions."   
  
Hikaru considered it. "No more of this 'five at a time' business?"   
  
"No."   
  
Hikaru wasn't thrilled about the prospect of spying on one of his friends for a weird goth guy with obvious obsessive tendencies and a scary predilection for strawberry ice cream. Still, if it'd mean finding out what happened to Sai...And anyway, it wouldn't really be _spying_ per se--they hung out together already, and after all, if Isumi-san could blow things up with his mind, somebody was bound to notice eventually. He just had to keep his eyes open and wait for an opportunity.   
  
The boy smiled.   
  
"You've got it, Subaru."   
  
The onmyouji glared.   
  
" 'Subaru'? Don't you think I warrant at _least_ a 'Subaru-_san_'? I'm a highly-skilled professional AND I'm doing you a huge favor very uncharacteristic of the Sakurazukamori."   
  
"Sakurazukawhat?"   
  
"...never mind. You've got crap for manners, you know that?"   
  
"Well _you're_ a creepy old man."   
  
"Old man?! I'm not old! I mean, I'm not _sixteen_, but--"   
  
"Then how old are you?"   
  
"I'm--"   
  
Subaru paused.   
  
"...point taken."   
  
********   
  
"I can't believe he connected _here_ when his territory here and here was in jeopardy! What was he _thinking?!"_ Waya shook his head sternly, arms folded up in an authoritative manner as if he were delivering pronouncements from on high straight from the Go God.   
  
"I don't know ... a miscalculation, I guess," Isumi answered, dragging a french fry through the little blorp of ketchup on the side of his tray. He wasn't entirely focused on what Waya was saying since one, he was still troubled by the question of his parentage and two, because Hikaru had been _**staring**_ at him for at least an hour and a half, most of that time without blinking. Isumi was trying his best to ignore it. At first it had made him a little concerned-- maybe he had something on his face?-- then a little self-conscious, and now it was just plain freaking him the hell _out_.   
  
Nor was Waya oblivious to the weirdness--Hikaru's little one-sided staring contest had made lunch about as relaxing as eating in full view of a tiger ready to pounce. Under normal circumstances Waya would have just smacked Hikaru over the head and asked him if he had a cataract or what, but he didn't want to risk embarrassing Isumi or making him any more anxious than he already was.   
  
All day long Waya had been trying to catch Isumi's eye, hoping something in his gaze would give at least a vague sense of how things were going on the adoption front. They hadn't talked about it since that last phone call, and the not-knowing was driving Waya absolutely _nuts._ He wanted a detailed progress report and he wanted it _now_, but he couldn't bring it up in front of Hikaru. And with Hikaru fixating on Isumi like he was confusing him with a certain green-haired Go prince, Waya couldn't even risk hinting at it. Sure it was just Hikaru--frequently clueless, frequently hopeless Hikaru--but then this same Hikaru could also be ruthless and creepy and astonishingly percepti--   
  
"Isumi-san?"   
  
Waya and Isumi jumped at the sound of Hikaru's voice.   
  
"Eh?" Isumi squeaked. In a desperate bid to look nonchalant, he compulsively shoved the largest bite of his hamburger he could manage into his mouth and nearly choked.   
  
"Do you believe in the paranormal?"   
  
Isumi blinked, frowned (as much as that was possible with so much food in his mouth), and attempted to swallow. He gagged.   
  
"What?" Waya asked, smacking Isumi on the back. "What kind of question is _that_?"   
  
"It's a fair question!" Hikaru snapped. "All we ever talk about is Go--sometimes I feel like I don't know you guys at all!"   
  
At that Waya and no longer choking Isumi shared a puzzled glance. Yes, their conversations _were_ pretty much limited to Go, but most of the time Go was all _Hikaru_ wanted to talk about. For the boy who saw nothing but the faint image of Touya Akira ahead of him to suddenly bemoan the lack of variety in their conversation topics was, to say the least, unusual.   
  
"Well ... do you?" Hikaru repeated.   
  
"Uhhhhhh ... no?"   
  
"Why not?"   
  
".....does it matter?"   
  
"Yes it matters! Hasn't anything weird and unexplainable ever happened to you, Isumi-san?" When Hikaru realized they were staring at him, he added quickly, "I mean, something like that's happened to everyone, right?"   
  
"I ... well ... why are you asking _me_ this?"   
  
"N... no special reason..."   
  
The lie was blatantly obvious; still, Isumi gave the question serious consideration.   
  
"I guess," he said finally, "the closest thing to a spiritual or paranormal experience I've had was when I realized I had finally passed the Pro exam."   
  
Isumi and Waya laughed, but Hikaru didn't even crack a smile. He actually looked deeply disappointed, almost hurt. Isumi didn't know what to make of that. Shindou seemed to be taking this discussion far more seriously than the topic deserved.   
  
"Hehehe ... Shindou's a hippie!" Waya laughed. "We never would have figured you as one of those New Agey types, neh, Isumi-san?"   
  
Hikaru bristled and clenched his fists together. He was irritated, not so much because he hadn't developed certain spiritual beliefs since he met Sai, but because he'd sacrificed a bit of the respect they had for him without gaining anything of any significance.   
  
"I am not!"   
  
"Sure ... when's the next coven meeting?" Waya asked, his lips curling up in a sly smirk.   
  
_Great_, Hikaru thought, _they're never going to let me live this down_. Annoyed, he shoved his garbage into the trash can and held the meanest scowl he could as they collected their stuff and left Mc Donalds. It was funny--he had sort of assumed that things would change once they weren't Insei. But really, the only thing that was different was the days they went to the Go Institute. They still collected at the same McDonalds, in the same booth, still talked about the same things...   
  
"I am _not_ a hippie," Hikaru grumbled. "And are you telling me that you don't believe in the paranormal either, Waya?"   
  
"I'm friends with you, aren't I?" Waya snickered.   
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"   
  
"I think it's self-explanatory! See you later, hippie!"   
  
Waya grabbed Isumi's arm and dragged him in the opposite direction, the younger boy laughing and waving as they went. As they disappeared into the distance, Hikaru sighed and slowly unclenched his fists. He couldn't really blame Waya for the comment--after all, hadn't he pretty much discovered Hikaru's connection to Sai all on his own? Or at least, he'd come as close to the truth as anyone who had tried to unlock the 'Sai' puzzle ever had. Maybe Waya was right ... maybe a person _did_ come to believe in the paranormal when they got a closer look at Hikaru's life.   
  
"Well, that was just incredibly _smooth_, Shindou-kun. Really ... I was awed."   
  
Hikaru yelped. He spun around and glared at Subaru.   
  
"Don't _do_ that!" he snapped. Then, trying to cover up how badly the older man had freaked him out, he added, "Haven't you ever heard of personal space?"   
  
Subaru dug a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and lit one up, casual as if he hadn't even heard Hikaru--which of course annoyed Hikaru to no end. It took the boy a minute to get over his irritation before he realized what Subaru had just said.   
  
"You were listening to us? How? I didn't see you inside anywhere ... did you bug me or something?"   
  
Subaru exhaled a large puff of smoke and glared at Hikaru, who was busy patting down his clothes.   
  
"Don't be ridiculous. I used a shikigami."   
  
Hikaru blinked.   
  
"...a _what?_"   
  
"Shi-ki-ga-mi. Spirit animals I can use as my eyes and ears." _Among other things._   
  
"Spirit animals ... and who's being ridiculous here?"   
  
Subaru shrugged.   
  
"I realize you're anxious to get some answers about your ghost friend, but _do_ try to have just a little more tact, Shindou-kun."   
  
Hikaru settled himself on the sidewalk. He had a feeling this argument wasn't going to be short _or_ reasonable, so he should at least be comfortable for it. Plus this way he'd have the leverage to jump up dramatically if he felt so inclined.   
  
"Well, what am I supposed to say? I don't even know what you're looking for."   
  
"And that's something you don't have to know."   
  
A long moment passed before Hikaru spoke again.   
  
"He's not in trouble, is he? Isumi-san?"   
  
There it was again--that sweet and concerned childlike tone that sometimes bled through Hikaru's tough teenage personality, the one that made Subaru willing to be a little less of a dick in response. He gave Hikaru a soft smile, one that seemed to win a bit of the boy's confidence back.   
  
"No, he's not in any trouble. It's nothing for you to worry about."   
  
Hikaru nodded, but was still obviously worried.   
  
"It's just...well, what kind of business would an onmyouji have with Isumi-san?"   
  
Subaru took another drag off his cigarette and glanced down the street.   
  
"It's personal."   
  
********   
  
Even after they had left Hikaru behind, neither Waya nor Isumi felt comfortable enough to talk about things out in the open. Instead, they'd strung together a conversation that consisted entirely of carefully calculated looks and subtle, seemingly random comments that hadn't aroused any obvious suspicion from passersby. It was surprisingly effective--of course, given how long they'd known each other, Isumi was more surprised that he and Waya weren't communicating telepathically by this point.   
  
"So, nothing?" Waya asked as they walked down a sparely-peopled street.   
  
"No, not yet ... they said it might take a while, though." Between the quiet and the gorgeous sunset, it was shaping up to be the kind of night Isumi imagined couples went on nice romantic strolls, but he didn't have any trouble sharing this sort of experience with his best friend, either.   
  
"Mmmm. So ... what are we going to tell Shindou?"   
  
"Who says we should tell him anything?"   
  
"Calm down--I'm not saying we _should_. I'm just saying that in case he has one of those random moments of uncharacteristic insight, realizes for a brief moment that there exists a world beyond Touya Akira-- or maybe this silly New Age fad he's going through now-- and picks up on some subtext, we should have a planned lie ready."   
  
As usual, Waya's insight into both his friends was spot on--almost annoyingly so in Isumi's case. While he admired Waya's quick thinking and effortless lying sometimes, as someone with a sentimental attachment to the truth, Isumi was a terrible liar. If they didn't have something figured out in advance he'd would either spit out the most wild and unconvincing lie imaginable or spill everything right then and there.   
  
Isumi wondered if his real parents were good liars, and if so, why they hadn't passed down the trait to him.   
  
"We should tell ... Hmmmmmm..." Waya's face scrunched up into his "thinking" pose, his fingers stroking the edge of his chin almost like some cartoon caricature would. When his eyes lit up with a sharp snap of his fingers that signaled his 'thinking' had come to a conclusion.   
  
"I got it! If he notices our conspiring, we'll tell him we're planing that trip to China!"   
  
The hypothetical trip to China that seemed like it would never actually happen would be a nice easy lie for them. They had actually set about planning it several times before, but Waya always found some way to put it off. Sometimes it was his game schedule, sometimes it was financial concerns, and sometimes Waya just got _damn_ creative. Isumi suspected Waya was just nervous--after all, who wouldn't be uncomfortable 1) going to a foreign country where he couldn't speak the language to 2) train with Go players who might be way beyond him in skill and 3) confront his evil mini-clone? And of course Waya would be the butt of all sorts of jokes about how much he and Le Ping looked alike.   
  
"Yeah, that might work," Isumi replied, smiling.   
  
They had come to the corner where they parted for their respective subway stations, a moment Isumi had been quietly dreading from the time he and Waya had hooked up that morning. Somehow being with Waya made the whole adoption thing...well, it didn't make it go _away_, exactly, but it did make it a lot easier to take. _So you're adopted? Life goes on!_ With Waya around it wasn't hard to remember, but when it was just Isumi and his Angst...   
  
It was going to be a long night.   
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Waya asked, grinning.   
  
"Yeah...."   
  
Waya gave Isumi's hand one final squeeze.   
  
"Cheer up! I'm sure something will turn up soon! Night!"   
  
Once Waya was far enough down the street not to hear him, Isumi gave in and heaved the sigh he'd been holding back all day. With each step away from that corner his mood grew a little heavier. Now he had to go back to a "home" that would probably never feel like home again.   
  
On one hand, Isumi knew his "father" would always be his father and his "mother" would always be his mother. They had taken care of him, watched over him, raised him as their own alongside their own and never treated him any differently. Isumi was grateful beyond words. And nothing would change the fact that he loved them.   
  
On the other hand, though, not knowing who his _biological_ parents were was keeping Isumi from being able to deal with the knowledge of his adoption properly. He wanted to just decide that the people who raised him were his real parents--the parents that counted--even if they weren't bonded by blood. Rationally, that was what Isumi believed.   
  
But until he knew about those other two... he could never put the issue to rest in his heart so easily.   
  
It was still early dusk in Tokyo, but the tall buildings blocked out so much light that it seemed later than it actually was. Isumi had spent the whole day with Waya and Hikaru, something he had agreed to only because if left to his own devices, he probably would have forced himself into a massive depression with little or no effort. There was nothing he could do but wait and see if the CLAMP Campus Detectives found any trace of his past. They seemed incredibly clever, and their track record was unbelievable, but they were surprisingly slow.   
  
He hated waiting. He wanted his answers _now._   
  
"It's a nice night, isn't it?"   
  
Isumi had been dragging his feet dully on the pavement when the smooth voice interrupted his thoughts. He didn't bother to look up--he didn't recognize the voice, so he reasoned it was just some passerby in a good mood being polite.   
  
"Yeah ... I guess."   
  
"You should be happier--there weren't many nice, quiet nights like this when I was your age."   
  
Isumi shrugged. He was probably being rude by being so aloof and laconic towards the man, but his mind was so full of troubles already there was no room for anything else--in this case guilt--to squeeze in.   
  
"Say...weren't they closing the Gokokuji station early this week for maintenance work?"   
  
Isumi stopped short. _Shit,_ that was right, they were. With all his worrying about things he couldn't change he'd been walking towards a station that wasn't even open.   
  
He picked his head up for the first time since he left Waya's company and turned around. The guy had just saved him a ten minute round-trip to the station and back--he owed him at least a thank-you, and maybe an apology.   
  
He would have gladly given him either, except there was no one there.   
  
Isumi frowned and looked around. It was not that the street was _empty_--there were a few people about, but no one within earshot of him and certainly no one that looked like he had cared enough to address him.   
  
A soft chuckle floated around him as the voice addressed him again:   
  
"Up here, Isumi."   
  
Without a second thought Isumi looked. For some reason, against all logic, his eyes wandered up the thin wooden telephone pole as it stretched into the sky.   
  
There was someone standing on top of it.   
  
_"Shit."_   
  
Isumi stepped back, trying to take in what he was seeing and make it mesh with the reality he'd known up till five seconds ago and failing miserably. No, now that he could see more clearly, things were only making _less_ sense. Not only was there a man standing on top of the pole, but he was wearing a _cape_ of all things. One of those big, billowy, high-collared Dracula-type capes.   
  
_"Shit,"_ Isumi repeated.   
  
The stranger pushed himself off the pole and landed as lightly as if he were weightless. It was at least a two-story drop, and yet the man had done it as easily as if he had been jumping off a swing.   
  
Isumi prepared to bolt. He wasn't sure he could out run someone who could do _that_, but hell if he was going to let the freak in the cape get any closer.   
  
The man tilted his head, eyes chuckling lightly, a slight smirk betraying his amusement.   
  
"You don't have to look so frightened, Isumi--I'm not going to eat you."   
  
That didn't really calm Isumi's nerves much.   
  
"Who are you and how do you know my name?"   
  
"My name is Shirou Kamui," the stranger replied.   
  
He undid the bow at his neck and dropped the cape. Underneath, he was wearing relatively normal attire--blue jeans, a t-shirt with a some sports team's logo on it, sneakers. Without the vampire wear, his approximate age seem almost impossible to guess. In the fading daylight he looked only a little older than Isumi himself, then a street light would flicker and he would seem much older than that.   
  
_Hasn't anything weird and unexplainable ever happened to you, Isumi-san?_   
  
Shirou Kamui apparently understood the look he was getting from the thoroughly puzzled Isumi, and explained quickly that he hardly ever got to wear the cape, and it was so perfect for perching dramatically on poles and such that he just couldn't pass up the opportunity when it presented itself.   
  
"Like tonight," Kamui concluded, smiling.   
  
Of course that was hardly a comfort.   
  
"Uh huh," Isumi said, trying to remember his 500-yard dash time. Maybe, if he put everything he had into it...   
  
"And I know your name because I've been keeping an eye on you for some time now."   
  
Isumi crumpled. If this guy had been spying on him, he probably already knew where he lived and all the other places he might run to. So he might as well relax and see what he had to say. But first, he had to know:   
  
"Why have you been doing that?"   
  
"Well, I'd say I'm entitled to it."   
  
Kamui turned to face down the street, where the last few rays of sunlight spilled into the alley. They licked his features, caught the subtle elegance of his cheekbones and forehead, lit his hair and showed off smoky, almost silver highlights. Haunted violet eyes--the same color as his own, Isumi realized slowly--locked on to the boy and held him fast.   
  
"After all," Kamui concluded, "I am your father." 


	4. If You Rub That It Will Just Get Worse

More Chicken Soup for the Wankage Soul (so to speak) Also be sure to check out the Official Wankage Site if you haven't already for much more Wankage fun.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------   
  
"My....father?"   
  
In the week or so since learning of his adoption, Isumi had started to sketch out a list of questions he wanted to ask his birth parents when--or if--he ever found them. For the most part, it was pretty pedestrian stuff--"Why did you give me up?" or "Were you ever planning on contacting me?".--but they were the kind of answers Isumi thought he needed if he was ever going to get on with his life.   
  
Also, "Do you like Go?", just because he was curious.   
  
But, now that he was standing face to face with a guy claiming to be his father, Isumi found his mind a complete and total blank. Frustration! For all the times he imagined this moment down to the tiniest detail over the last week, he should have been able to come up with something a little more substantial! Argh!   
  
Of course, he'd never imagined the first time he saw his father, the man would be perching on a pole wearing a big flappy Dracula cape. That just...that just screwed poor Isumi's thinking all to hell and back.   
  
So in the end, that was the best he could come up with.   
  
And Kamui nodded.   
  
"My....father," Isumi repeated cautiously.   
  
It was hard to tell in this light, but yeah, wasn't there a certain resemblance? He was smaller and slighter than Isumi was, but they had the same hair, and those eyes...Isumi had never seen anyone with eyes like his before. _Never._ Not once in nineteen years of life--although, to be fair, he'd been in Tokyo most of his life, and he'd only ever been outside Japan once for that trip to the Chinese Go Institute, and maybe purple eyes weren't so rare once you left Asia--   
  
"Isumi?"   
  
Isumi realized he'd been spacing out. When he looked up, he saw Kamui sitting on a nearby bench, arms crossed over his thighs. He wasn't smiling.   
  
"I--I'm sorry..." Isumi said quickly. "I...this is just...I..."   
  
Kamui fixed the boy with a hard look.   
  
"Um, Shirou-san--"   
  
"Kamui."   
  
"Right. Um....Kamui-san, uh....I don't mean to sound...suspicious, but...I mean, you have to know, this is--how do I know you're--?"   
  
"--your father?"   
  
"Yeah. Um, sorry."   
  
"It's understandable."   
  
The way Kamui smiled suggested that he knew his next set of lines by heart--that he had in fact spent a great deal of time composing and rehearsing them. He leaned back and closed his eyes.   
  
"You were left on your parents' doorstep on April 18th, two-thousand. A Tuesday. It was just after seven in the morning, and a little chilly yet, so I made sure you had a blanket. Yeah," Kamui said, answering Isumi's next question before he could ask it, "I was the one who left you there. And I left something with you, something your parents kept and gave to you when you found out the truth--right?"   
  
Isumi's throat felt very dry all of a sudden. Okay that was pretty convincing.   
  
"This?"   
  
Kamui opened his palm and held out the Tokyo Tower pencil sharpener. Isumi stared.   
  
"How did you get that?"   
  
"From the CLAMP Campus Detectives. We go back a ways. They knew about the situation and contacted me when you hired them. I'm sorry--I asked them to give you the runaround until I could take care of a few things."   
  
"Oh."   
  
Kamui approached Isumi slowly, ever cautious not to spook him.   
  
"Here--this belongs to you."   
  
"What does it mean?" Isumi asked. "The tower--"   
  
"It's ... uhh ... really not that important. It was a sentimental thing really," Kamui dodged the question with a shy laugh. If it had been important enough to leave a reference to it with Isumi on that day, Isumi was dying to know the story behind it. But maybe he shouldn't push Kamui until telling things he clearly didn't want to just yet.   
  
Isumi took the knick-knack and squeezed it so tightly he could still see the impression of the miniature girders on his fingers an hour later, when he was lying in bed trying to digest everything Kamui had told him. At that point, he'd be feeling horrendously overwhelmed and more than a little frightened, but right now, he was just numb, so much so that when Kamui put a hand on his back to guide him over to the bench, Isumi let himself be guided with barely a flinch. He didn't so much sit as collapse, and kept his eyes glued to the ground as Kamui resumed his place beside him.   
  
  
  
"Trust me, it was a bigger shock to me than it will ever be to you," Kamui grumbled softly. His lips quirking down into a distasteful frown that made it clear to Isumi that his conception hadn't been an entirely happy occasion.   
  
"I wasn't planned, was I?" Something in his voice sounded like mature, adult understanding trying to keep childish hurt from getting out--and failing spectacularly. "That's why I was given up. You and my mother weren't...I must have come at a bad time..."  
  
  
  
Kamui blinked, his dark violet colored eyes looking sincerely amazed at the thought. "Oh no ... you misunderstand! It was just ... uhhh ... an unusual experience for me to say the least. I was only 16 at the time after all. Actually it was the reason I gave you up that I came to talk to you about. Now, this is going to seem a little odd--"   
  
"_All_ of this seems a little odd."   
  
Kamui smiled softly.   
  
"That's good. I mean, it's good that this is all odd to you, because it means you've had a nice, normal life so far, and that's all I ever wanted for you."   
  
"And I couldn't have had a nice, normal life with my real mother and father?"   
  
"Not at all."   
  
"Why not?"   
  
"There is a man," Kamui replied gravely, "who has certain designs on you. An assassin. He's--"   
  
"An assassin..?" Isumi breathed. "Is after _me?"_   
  
"Oh, no, not like _that_. He won't kill you. But he _is_ dangerous. He's not someone you should trust. Under no circumstances--Isumi, listen, it's very important that you understand this--no matter what he says or how nice he seems ...Don't. Just don't. He wants something from you--something you'll never be able to get back. That's why I had to--I used to think, when you were small, I'd be able to protect you...but then ..."   
  
Kamui looked away, his hair hiding the painful look in his eyes.   
  
"...someone I cared about very much...he died...and I...as time went on, it became clear to me that if you stayed with me, you'd eventually fall into that man's hands.   
  
"So I did what I had to."   
  
"I'm sorry..." Isumi murmured. Had he really been that much trouble to his real parents that someone had died because of him?   
  
Kamui's smile was sad, the kindness he was trying to convey overwhelmed and empty. His thoughts were still with that person...   
  
"Don't worry--it's not anything you could have prevented. You were just a baby.   
  
"Anyway, by the time I had established a better situation where I could have kept you safe from him, maybe even taught you to defend yourself..." He chuckled softly. "I saw you with your new family--you looked so happy. I couldn't take you away from that. And you were safer there, anyway. That's why I never contacted you.   
  
"You _were_ happy, right?"   
  
Isumi nodded before he even had a chance to think about it, which said all that needed to be on that subject.   
  
Kamui returned a short, somber nod--_well, it all worked out in the end; don't get jealous._ Then all the softness drained out of his features again as he turned to face Isumi, once again all anxious, angry intensity.   
  
"Isumi, you can be mad at me, you can hate me, whatever you like--"   
  
"I don't--"   
  
"--but please, listen to what I have to say. That man I told you about, he might have found you by now, so you have to be careful. His name is Sumeragi Subaru."   
  
"Sumeragi...Subaru," Isumi repeated carefully.   
  
"Exactly. Remember--do _not_ let him get close to you. He's the type of person who's very easy to trust--believe me--but don't let your guard down. Don't even _talk_ to him. Do you understand, Isumi?"   
  
Isumi swallowed.   
  
"I understand..."   
  
Now that was a lie. Isumi didn't understand a bit of it. He just hoped--and this was what was on his mind all the rest of that sleepless night--that he would never had to judge the truth of Shirou Kamui's words for himself.  
  
*********   
  
Seishirou was surprised.   
  
"Didn't I...kill you?" Subaru asked, tapping his chin thoughtfully. The look on his face was dimly perplexed, as if he was trying very hard to remember when and where, exactly, it was he knew this guy from. "Wait...It was Rainbow...something or other..."   
  
"Yes, yes you did. And 'Bridge'."   
  
"You're very spry for a dead man."   
  
"Clow Magic."   
  
"Oh. That explains it."   
  
Seishirou shrugged genially, pushed the sunglasses up on his nose. Mildly irritated with Fuji for neglecting to mention this one important little detail about this afternoon's consultation. "Well, I needed the vacation. But now I'm back and I've surrendered myself to a higher calling. Honestly, though, I'm a little surprised that you were able to read the entire book, schedule an appointment with 'Dr Sakurazuka', and never make the connection."   
  
"Well ... it's been a while."   
  
"And Sumeragis are still half dense and entirely brain-dead, I assume?"   
  
"There are a lot of Sakurazukas in Japan, you know," Subaru snorted. "I'd be a basket case if I assumed every one was you resurrected."   
  
Well, one could hardly argue with reasoning like that.   
  
Subaru stepped away from the door, the only indication he gave that Seishirou was invited to enter his apartment. Seishirou did, and somehow wasn't at all surprised to find that Subaru's taste in home furnishings hadn't changed a whit since he was a teenager--very Spartan, very modest, impersonal as hotel room no matter how long he had lived there.   
  
Seishirou threw his jacket over the back of the couch and spotted a copy of his book resting on Subaru's coffee table. He picked it up, thumbed through, noted a rather impressive amount of marginalia.   
  
"This is an advance copy."   
  
"Yes," Subaru nodded.   
  
"How did you manage that?"   
  
"The family is a big fan of your philosophy."   
  
"Figures," Seishirou chuckled as he smoothly removed his sunglasses. He'd seen Subaru staring at them since the moment he'd come in the door--if not for that, Seishirou would've forgotten he had them on at all (you simply got used to the feeling when you wore glasses all the time). Well, it was no wonder if the boy was curious--Seishirou had lost one of his eyes when they were both rather young and then Fuuma, obnoxious smart ass that he was, had made a gift of the other, which should have left the former Sakurazukamori short a full set. How he was getting around without a cane or a seeing eye dog--   
  
So Seishirou decided to satisfy his curiosity.   
  
Subaru looked like he'd eaten a bug.   
  
"They're _pink."_   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Why are they _pink?"_   
  
"Eriol-kun has a bizarre sense of humor." Seishirou winked one of his perfectly restored eyes at the thoroughly unsettled Sumeragi. They weren't _bright_ pink really, more a soft grayish almost sakura like pink color. "I'm thinking about getting color contacts. But it's not such an _outrageous_ pink, and anyway, vanity's not a good thing to develop at my age, is it?"   
  
"Uhhhhhh ... Tea?"   
  
"No, thank you," Seishirou smiled. "I'd rather we'd just get down to business here."   
  
"Busy schedule?" Subaru asked as he planted himself on the couch across from Seishirou. The former Sakurazukamori had remained remarkably youthful in what should have been his more 'mature' years. Subaru thought it was probably the death thing--it does have a way of changing a man. Why, just the fact that Seishirou had gone from heartless assassin to dedicated political activist spoke highly of the rejuvenating powers of expiring.   
  
"You know ... there's always work to be done in the fight for love and justice." Seishirou smiled slyly over the lid of his opened briefcase. "Have you ever considered joining in on fighting the good fight? You have outstanding qualifications."   
  
"Thank you, but I'm not interested in politics," Subaru replied shortly.   
  
"Ah well ... I wasn't at your age, either." Then, satisfied that all his materials were in proper order, Seishirou spread out a few pamphlets in front of Subaru.   
  
"Now, why don't you explain the situation to me and we can discuss your options?"   
  
********   
  
Were there a customer satisfaction survey for the Sumeragi family, Touya Akira would have marked "Very Poor (1)" in every category--assuming that "Abysmally Bad (-10)" wasn't an option. This "Subaru" didn't seem to be taking take his case seriously at all. Bad enough that he'd been on the job a week and hadn't uncovered anything interesting about Shindou, but the man didn't even bother to check in regularly to keep Akira apprised of his progress. And the rest of the family was no more help. Every time Akira asked them to put him in touch with Subaru, all he got was a vague "Subaru-san is currently handling other projects now."   
  
"Other projects..." Akira snorted.   
  
"Did you say something, Akira-kun?" a voice shouted from the front.   
  
"Uh, no, Ishikawa-san."   
  
"Well, if you need anything--"   
  
"Thank you, no."   
  
And Akira went back to scowling at the fish in the aquarium. They really hated it when he was all obsessive like this. Which was always.   
  
Maybe hiring an onmyouji had been a bad idea from the start. From what he had been able to get out of the Sumeragi clan so far, everything suggested that Shindou Hikaru was just a normal teenage kid--provided one's understanding of "normal" was sufficiently flexible.   
  
Maybe Akira had let himself get carried away...   
  
"Touya Akira?"   
  
He looked up at the man leaning over his table and staring at him. It wasn't anyone Akira recognized, but by now he was used to strangers seeking him out. Being at the top of the Go world meant everyone wanted a piece of you one way or the other. Was this a reporter for a Go magazine, or just someone looking for a round of tutoring go, or maybe another pro hopeful about to throw down the gauntlet?   
  
"Yes. I'm sorry--you are?"   
  
"Shirou Kamui," the man said as he sat himself down across from Akira. "This is your father's Go salon, right? I thought I'd find you here."   
  
In no mood for the seemingly endless string of polite small talk that always followed this sort of introduction, Akira decided to cut right to the chase.   
  
"I see ... and how many stones do you want?"   
  
Clearly the question threw Kamui a bit. Akira guessed he'd offended the older man by suggesting a handicap. The big shot amateurs were like that sometimes.   
  
"Would you rather we play even, then?" the boy suggested.   
  
"Uhhh ... sure," Kamui replied.   
  
Whoever this Shirou Kamui was, Akira was looking forward to the game. Between unsatisfactory onmyoujis and the increasingly frustrating mystery wrapped in a riddle wrapped in an enigma that was Shindou Hikaru, the boy was in a seriously sour mood. Even if this wasn't an especially challenging match, it would at least give him something else to focus on for a bit.   
  
"You can be black," Akira said, handing Kamui the container of black stones. "Onegaishimasu."   
  
Kamui looked at the stones in his hands, then back to the boy before him as he bowed down to signal the beginning of the game, then to the clear Go board in front of him.   
  
"No, um... I--"   
  
But when Kamui looked up, he could tell Akira hadn't heard him. He had his game face on, and his concentration was so intense Kamui doubted he would notice a marching band making its way through the Go salon.   
  
It seemed Kamui had little choice. He picked up a stone and dropped it on the board.   
  
_He doesn't hold the stones properly_ was Akira's first thought. But then, he reminded himself, neither did Shindou Hikaru at first, and he still turned out to be a worthy opponent. As for the play itself, it wasn't any of the popular or advisable styles of opening a game. Shirou didn't go for the corner stars or even the midpoint. It seemed sort of ... random.   
  
Ah, but then again, didn't Hikaru tend to open with classical forms so out of date _they_ seemed almost illogical, too? No, Akira couldn't let appearances be factored into his judgment. He needed to focus on the strength this Shirou Kamui played with when it started to reveal itself.   
  
A few more hands, a few more strange plays...Suddenly Shirou's face lit up, as if with sudden intuition. He grinned and placed his next stone on the board with a decisive _click._   
  
_Here it comes. Now I'll see his_ true _strength._  
  
  
  
But that "strength" was almost mind-bogglingly disappointing. Kamui had the most erratic and nonsensical playing strategy Akira had ever seen. For most of the game he couldn't even figure out _what_ the man was trying to accomplish with his moves. It was almost as if he was just dropping stones wherever his whims took him. A skilled and experienced player might be able to pull such a technique off, but Kamui's stone groups (if one could call them _groups_) were like lame ducks to a hunting dog.   
  
In other words, easy prey.   
  
They had only been playing for about five minutes and Akira had already pushed Kamui's stones to the point that the game could not be saved-- at least not by _Kamui_. A smart player would recognize this as the time to resign.   
  
This had to be the fastest Akira had ever won a game of Go. Something wasn't right--Shirou wasn't just weak, he was down right _incompetent._ An amateur at least would make an effort to section off a bit of the board for themself--   
  
_Click._   
  
"I win!" Kamui cried happily.   
  
"Ahh... excuse me?"   
  
Kamui pointed to a particularly weak Black formation in the upper left corner.   
  
"See? They're all in a row! 1-2-3-4!"   
  
Akira didn't see it at all. While true that Kamui's stones _were_ all lined up diagonally, they were also poorly protected and easily cut. No one would call this a critical point of the game, let alone a winning hand. He stared ... and stared ... and stared some more, but could not for the life of him figure out how those four black stones somehow turned the game around and into Kamui's favor.   
  
He felt like he must be missing something ... and then it dawned on him.   
  
"Shirou-san ... you don't play Go like Connect Four."   
  
Kamui frowned and looked back at the board curiously.   
  
"You don't?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Oh. How do you play, then?"   
  
"You use the stones to mark off territory and attack your enemy's areas," Akira answered flatly. After knowing Shindou Hikaru four years, he would have thought _nothing_ was beyond his comprehension anymore, but this guy was just beyond belief. To not know Go was one thing, but to mistake the ancient, time honored game of Go for a Milton-Bradley board game was just...   
  
"Shirou-san, haven't you ever played Go before? At all?"   
  
Kamui shook his head. "Wouldn't have even heard of it if my son wasn't really into it."   
  
"Oh ... my apologies then, I assumed-- but ... if you don't play, what are you doing in a Go salon? Are you here for a lesson?"   
  
"No--I'm here to see you."   
  
_Why would someone who knows next to nothing about Go want to see me?_   
  
"What do you want?"   
  
"I'm here," Kamui said darkly, "to help you banish the shadow of shame that has been cast over your life since you were a child."   
  
Akira blinked. Was this guy one of those rare Christian missionaries in Tokyo? He'd heard of such people in passing, but he was pretty sure they didn't seek out individuals directly.   
  
Although it might explain the cape...   
  
Other than that, though, he couldn't possibly fathom what the man across from him was talking--   
  
"Oh. You mean Ogata-sensei."   
  
Kamui nodded.   
  
"To be betrayed and abused by someone who's like a father to you is a horrible thing."   
  
Well, Akira wouldn't really call it _abuse_, but that was another matter altogether. He coughed sharply and pointed out, "Ogata-sensei isn't like a father to me."   
  
Kamui twitched.   
  
"Not at all?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Hmm...but he's too old to be a big brother figure, though..."   
  
Akira nodded. "Still, I've never seen him as a father figure."   
  
Kamui 'hmmm'ed and rested his elbows on the Go board.   
  
"Would you say he qualifies as a...creepy older Uncle figure then?"   
  
"Is there even such a thing as an 'Uncle Figure'?"   
  
"Just answer the question."   
  
"Uhhh.... I guess so ... maybe."   
  
Kamui grinned and sat up confidently.   
  
"Good enough! Touya-kun, come with me. I want you to see the kind of help my organization can offer you."   
  
"Organization?" Akira boggled. "Um, thank you, but I'm not really interested in becoming a religious person..."   
  
"Religion?" Kamui snorted. "This has nothing to do with _religion!_ This is about the future of the world and sanctity of the Japanese family!"   
  
"_What?!_"   
  
But Akira apparently wasn't going to get either an answer or a choice, as he was suddenly dragged from his seat and out the door. As they bounded down the street (at one point it almost seemed like they were _flying_), Akira wondered if he should really be going anywhere with this weird, wild-eyed guy. He might be an idiot when it came to Go, but he was also passionate, dedicated, and possibly insane.   
  
Although ... if this man could help him find some way to rid himself of Ogata-sensei's attentions, it might be worth the risk...   
  
********   
  
"Here you go."   
  
The young woman working at the ticket office at Tokyo Tower was sad to see the boys go. Yes, there was something a little creepy about those smiles, like the two of them were entirely too amused by something only they could see, but they were so polite and handsome and just adorable with those matching expressions...it was worth being a little unnerved, wasn't it?   
  
Still, it was a little strange that they only wanted to visit the Trick Art Gallery and not either observatory platform.   
  
"Next time, _I_ will treat Eriol-kun," thanked Fuji as he took his ticket from Eriol.   
  
"My pleasure, Shuusuke-kun--this _is_ your first mission, after all," Eriol replied, his smile the mirror-image of his companion's. "It's just a pity we couldn't have come in uniform--but yours isn't ready yet."   
  
The two boys headed up the stairs, still smiling. Of course, they had no intention of actually visiting the tacky Trick Art Gallery, but it would be a convenient excuse if anyone asked them where they were going.   
  
Eriol was surprised at how much he was enjoying Fuji's company. He'd been somewhat leery at first about adding another member to the organization, but he was now rather pleased that they had. On the walk from the subway station, Eriol had discovered they had a similar sense of humor in addition to their common political goal; there was no doubt he and Fuji Shuusuke would work well together.   
  
On reaching the roof, Eriol lead the way to one of the corners of the fenced in "Amusement Area", as the rooftop's dilapidated and overpriced playground was named.   
  
"They always put their monitor back in the same place," he explained. "You'd think they'd give up or at least find a new location after all the times they've had to replace it, but..."   
  
"Seishirou-san seemed to suggest their leader has some sort of affinity for the Tower," Fuji said thoughtfully.   
  
Eriol laughed.   
  
"You could say that."   
  
He checked once again to be sure they were alone on the rooftop, then climbed onto the rail.   
  
"I assume you have some experience 'watching' someone from above?" Eriol asked, extending a hand.   
  
"Oh _yes_," assured Fuji as he joined him on the rail.   
  
"I find it much easier to climb the outside of the Tower from here," Eriol continued. "Though we have further to go, it's such a pain trying to exit from the Main Observation deck that this is usually easier. Of course, either way, it's well worth it for the cause."   
  
Both boys leapt onto one of the Tower's bright orange beams and started hopping easily up the tower.   
  
"The only tricky part is the Main Observatory. When I'm feeling athletic, I just hop over it; when I'm lazy, I grow wings. Once we're about 15 feet above it, though, the ascent is easy again."   
  
"Do you ever worry about anyone seeing you?" asked Fuji, a knowing smile on his lips.   
  
Eriol shook his head.   
  
"The Japanese seem very good at ignoring anything odd--they never seem to look up at all. I've been spotted by foreigners a few times, but by the time they've figured out how to say 'There's a boy flying through the air!' in Japanese, I'm already gone."   
  
"That'd be wrong anyway."   
  
"Oh?"   
  
"It should be, 'There's a _handsome_ boy flying through the air'."   
  
"Ahh, now you're flattering me, Shuusuke-kun."   
  
They'd reached the earthquake detector under the Main Observatory and paused there a few minutes before leaping easily onto its roof.   
  
"Here is where we're most likely to be spotted," Eriol explained. "When the elevators are busy, people seem to like looking out the windows."   
  
"But not on a day like today," smiled Fuji, half-amused.   
  
"No, I guess not," smiled Eriol in return.   
  
It didn't take them long to get where they were going--the spot just below the Special Observation Deck where the data transmitter in question sat.   
  
"Here we are. And now we get rid of it. Would you like the honor, Shuusuke-kun?"   
  
"I'd love to."   
  
Fuji reached into his pocket and pulled out an ordinary-looking tennis ball--which is exactly what it was. A racket that hadn't been there a minute ago suddenly materialized in Fuji's hand. Still smiling, he smashed the ball straight into the transmitter, turning it with a single hit into so much smoking junk.   
  
And that was that. Considering all the effort they put into reaching it, the destruction seemed almost anti-climatic.   
  
Their work done, the two Borgia boys started their descent. Eriol decided to show Fuji how to enter the Main Observatory for those days when the weather was unpleasant, since he was sure _they_ would put up another transmitter in the exact same spot. Having already enjoyed the view from above, the boys immediately descended to the cafe level. Despite the chill, they each ordered a strawberry ice cream, which they enjoyed at one of the small tables scattered about.   
  
"I think I'll invite Yuuta here on a date," Fuji concluded, licking the pink smear off his upper lip. "He hasn't been to the Tower yet, and he so loves strawberry ice cream."   
  
"Yuuta?" Eriol asked curiously.   
  
Fuji's smile became even brighter.   
  
"My younger brother," he explained, handing Eriol a small photo album decorated with pink hearts.   
  
Eriol flipped through the album and was delighted to discover he and Fuji had something else in common--an interest in stubborn, innocent boys.   
  
"It's so _good_ to have you aboard, Shuusuke-kun."  
  



	5. Hamster Dance

  
  
Tezuka Kunimitsu patted the shoulder of his crying apprentice gingerly. Though they were the exact same age, a person seeing them would never have suspected. Tezuka looked much older than Junior High School and Suzuhara Misaki still looked like a gradeschooler. Her current tears were not aiding her in this respect either. He hadn't been particularly thrilled about taking on an apprentice nor was he terribly comfortable around girls to begin with, and weeping girls in particular made him twitch. Still, as Misaki's advisor, she was his responsibility, and Tezuka took his responsibilities _very_ seriously.   
  
But it'd be a lot easier to take his responsibilities _very_ seriously if Misaki's crying wasn't drawing everyone from a three-block radius.   
  
"Suzuhara..."   
  
"And other than the blue hair she looked _just **like** her_!" Misaki cried. "I still remember being at the hospital and.. and...and..."   
  
She broke into a fresh round of sobbing.   
  
"Suzuhara, I'm sure it was upsetting for you, but in our vocation, you'll see many shocking things." Tezuka continued to try delicately to comfort her while glaring at any passerby who chose to stop and stare.   
  
Misaki sniffled loudly.   
  
"I'm sorry, Tezuka-san. You've done so much for me--I just..."   
  
"We should check on things at Tokyo Tower while we're out." Tezuka had narrowly managed to cut Misaki off before she could start working herself into a new fit. "It's close to our current location, and, if you like, I'll buy you a parfait there."   
  
"Really?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
Misaki considered this, still sniffling loudly but at least not crying anymore. Tezuka found a handkerchief in his pocket and handed it to her so she could clean herself up. As she did, the crowd that had gathered began to dissipate, though a few passersby did give Tezuka dirty looks ("Making a cute little girl cry like that...").   
  
He sighed.   
  
It wasn't that he didn't like Suzuhara--she seemed nice, if a little naive`, and was easy to get along with most of the time. Still, Tezuka didn't understand why _she_ was _his_ apprentice. Really, there were far more appropriate candidates for both of them, unless their being paired together was supposed to be some kind of joke about how neither of them looked their age.   
  
Still, strange as it was, Tezuka could hardly turn down a request direct from Shirou Kamui himself.   
  
"Shall we go, then?"   
  
"Okay!"   
  
Misaki's eyes were still puffy, but her depression seemed to have passed, so they headed off in the direction of Tokyo Tower. Despite her small size, Misaki was able to keep up with Tezuka, but the the pace made it difficult to talk while they walked. This didn't bother Tezuka in the least.   
  
When they arrived at the Tower, Tezuka immediately went to the ticket office. He'd decided to buy Misaki her parfait first and then acquaint her with the finer points of AID's surveillance network, the location of key transmitters, their functions, and how to maintain them properly. They were all things she'd need to know even as a member of the reserve forces, and anyway, checking on the transmitter would mean this outing hadn't been a total waste of time.   
  
"Taking your younger sister on a date to Tokyo Tower! How cute!" giggled the woman at the ticket office.   
  
"Naaaaaaaaaaaaa!" shouted Misaki. "Tezuka-san isn't related to me!"   
  
Tezuka frowned--it was attitudes like _that_ that made things so difficult for AID. Taking the tickets, he strode off toward the elevators. Misaki bowed politely to the ticket lady behind the counter and hurried after him. As their elevator rose toward the observation deck, they looked out at an increasingly tiny Tokyo.   
  
"Have you been here before, Suzuhara?" Tezuka asked.   
  
Misaki looked away from the window for a moment.   
  
"No, Tezuka-san. I grew up in Wakayama. _Naaaaaaaaaaa!_ It's so _pretty!"_   
  
On reaching the Main Observation Deck, Tezuka wanted to head downstairs immediately to buy Misaki her parfait, but the girl had other ideas and ran over to the souvenir shop. She grabbed something from a rack and held it up for Tezuka to see. It was a pink frog key chain.   
  
"Isn't it cute, Tezuka-san?"   
  
Tezuka sighed. This was getting to be a pattern.   
  
Forty minutes and 4000 yen later, the pair finally made it downstairs to the cafe. Misaki was clutching a bag full of tacky souvenirs including the aforementioned frog, as well as a set of print club stickers she had forced Tezuka to join her for. On the bright side, at least her earlier tears were now long forgotten, and the cafe was practically empty.   
  
Tezuka was just about to place their order when--   
  
"And _this_ is a picture of Yuuta sleeping," sighed a familiar voice.   
  
"He does look adorable."   
  
"Mmm. Of course, when I see him like that, it's hard for me to _let_ him sleep..."   
  
A chuckle. "Perfectly understandable."   
  
Tezuka wheeled around. Seeing his teammate, Fuji Shuusuke, at the only other occupied table was surprising enough, but then the Seigaku captain realized he was with--_no! Could it be?_ Tezuka had always known Fuji tended toward certain political beliefs and even suspected he'd been acting on certain inclinations as well, but he still hadn't expected to see him with...   
  
"Naaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Hiiragizawa-kun? What are you doing here?" Misaki asked, rather loudly.   
  
Both boys stopped looking at pictures and stood up, smiling pleasantly. Tezuka immediately threw a protective arm in front of Misaki. Of all the days to go to the Tower for a stupid parfait...   
  
"Why Tezuka-kun, I had no idea they'd send someone so quickly about the transmitter," Eriol laughed.   
  
"I didn't know you two knew each other," Fuji said, observing the situation with his usual lackadaisical amusement.   
  
"Well, I don't know Tezuka-kun _well_," Eriol corrected. "He just makes occasional appearances for the other side."   
  
Misaki stared, horrified, as the pieces clicked into place.   
  
"Hiiragizawa-kun, you work for...for..."   
  
"I'm afraid so, Misaki-chan." Eriol's voice suggested he wasn't sorry in the least.   
  
"You mentioned you enrolled in a junior high school to keep yourself busy," Fuji commented offhandedly. "But I didn't think you'd enroll in _Eriol Academy_. Isn't that a little narcissistic?"   
  
Eriol grinned broadly and shrugged. "It's one of the best schools in Japan."   
  
"Well, that may be..."   
  
Tezuka glared. Apparently the building battle tension was something neither Eriol nor Fuji seemed particularly concerned about. He coughed loudly, trying to return everyone's attention to the situation at hand, and only got Misaki asking him if he needed a lozenge.   
  
"It seems," Eriol concluded, turning to Tezuka and Misaki, "that each of us goes to school with one of our opposites. It wouldn't be fair to ask us to fight a classmate..."   
  
Tezuka agreed, but for a different reason. He couldn't be sure how strong Fuji might be off the tennis court, but he was reasonably sure that Eriol was the more powerful of the two. He didn't want Misaki, with her total lack of combat experience, fighting the wizard. His only hope was that Fuji, in spite of his questionable morals, wouldn't hurt a girl _too_ badly.   
  
Eriol reached into his school uniform and pulled out a strange metal key.   
  
"O key that contains the power of darkness! Reveal your true form to me! By our contract, I, Eriol, command you! RELEASE!"   
  
A glowing circle appeared beneath Eriol's feet as the key in his hand grew into a huge staff with a sun and crescent moon shape at its top.   
  
"Sleep!" Eriol commanded. Instantly, the few other visitors and Tower employees crumpled to the floor.   
  
"You _do_ realize where we are," Tezuka asked coolly.   
  
"Of course!" Eriol replied. "We'll be careful of the kekkai--our side doesn't want the world ending any more than yours does."   
  
That they were able to set honorable terms for their battle did little to convince Tezuka that he could trust Eriol not to be vicious or sneaky. He had to keep his guard up--Eriol was a far superior opponent, and with Misaki to account for, the tiniest mistake could make his disadvantaged situation even worse.   
  
Eriol continued to smile as he sent a rain of sharp red crystals flying at Tezuka.   
  
************   
  
Misaki was puzzled. The boy in front of her looked so nice, so gentle--it was hard to believe he was on the other side. Kamui-san never talked much about the individual members of Borgia, trying instead to keep the AID wards focused on advancing their own long-term goals. Yes, Borgia was an obstacle in their path, but even if it were removed, they'd still have a long walk ahead of them. Better for them to try and make small changes in the population at large than run around fighting pointless battles. Besides that, trainees weren't permitted to engage in combat while they were still in the apprentice stage unless it was an extreme situation   
  
Left to her own devices, then, Misaki had imagined the members of Borgia to be creepy older men with cruel looks and stiff business suits--nothing like this kind, laid-back looking boy or her clever, equally friendly classmate.   
  
  
  
And yet, here they were.  
  
  
  
"Um...I'm Suzuhara Misaki," she announced, not really sure what one was supposed to do in this situation.   
  
"And I'm Fuji Shuusuke," answered her amused opponent.   
  
Several minutes passed. A tumbleweed blew across the floor.   
  
"We should probably start fighting each other right about now," Fuji suggested.   
  
"Oh! Right!"   
  
Without really thinking through her options, Misaki did the first thing that came to mind.   
  
"Wings of an angel, please pull me and Hikaru together!"   
  
Something small and pink struck Fuji squarely in the head, then fell into his waiting hand.   
  
"Misaki-chan, what _was_ that?"   
  
The girl blushed.   
  
"Well...I've only ever fought people in Angelic Layer," she explained timidly.   
  
"Angelic ... Layer?"   
  
Fuji looked down at the doll resting in his hand. It was a pretty shade of coral almost head to toe, with soft hair and strangely flexible joints that seemed very un-doll-like. Even its face was oddly lifelike, as if she might open her eyes at any moment and look up at Fuji.   
  
"She's cute, Misaki-chan. Her name is Hikaru?"   
  
Misaki nodded cheerfully, relieved that the awkwardness had passed.   
  
"It's a game... kind of."   
  
"Hmmm? Sounds interesting. How does it work?"   
  
"Well, first you need to create your angel--"   
  
"The doll?"   
  
"Yeah! I still remember the first time I ever saw Angelic Layer--it was when I first arrived in Tokyo. There was a big TV screen in front of the station and Athena--this beautiful white angel--was fighting this really BIG angel, and I didn't think she'd be able to win, but she did and I was so excited and then Icchan-san showed up and I started playing and it's so fun, you meet so many neat people--"   
  
"So, you're good at this Angelic Layer, Misaki-chan?" Fuji asked.   
  
Misaki blushed again.   
  
************   
  
Tezuka barely had enough time to pull out his tennis racket and create a 'Tezuka Zone' before the crystal barrage started slamming into his whirlwind. He stood his ground, but the force started pushing him back slowly toward the wall. This was bad, very, very bad.   
  
"Sending out the reserves because Kakyou-kun got himself put in a coma, so very sad," Eriol commented casually. "Do you really think you stand a chance against us, Tezuka-kun?"   
  
Tezuka didn't answer. He swung his racket in a skillful and calculated maneuver, one that made the wind seem to take on liquid properties and twist and bend according to his will. It barreled toward Eriol, but the young wizard moved aside easily, letting the attack smash one of the observation deck's windows.   
  
"Really, Tezuka-kun, did you think that would hurt me?"   
  
"No, but maybe this will!"   
  
And suddenly there was a tennis ball moving at a ridiculously high velocity right at Eriol's face. Eriol dodged it--narrowly, he felt ball fuzz on his ear--and slammed into a wall so hard it left a decent-sized dent in the metal.   
  
The distraction gave Tezuka just enough time to check--   
  
Okay, it probably wasn't a good thing that Misaki was sitting at a table _chatting_ with Fuji, but at least she was safe.   
  
Meanwhile, Eriol plucked the ball out of the wall and grinned.   
  
"I wonder, is it my serve now?"   
  
Suddenly Tezuka's view was cut off by a swarm of shrieking tennis balls, all of them aiming for his head. He parried brilliantly, but quickly realized that for all his skill, this was too many balls for even _him_ to manage. Tezuka knew he was dangerously outmatched.   
  
Not good.   
  
************   
  
"And age and height don't matter in the Layer," Misaki continued. "My friend Hatoko-chan is one of the best players in the Kanto region, and she's only in elementary school!"   
  
"Amazing...Are there any rules about naming or dressing your angel?" Fuji asked curiously.   
  
"Not that I know of, and I'm sure Icchan-san would have told me. I named Hikaru after my favorite manga character!"   
  
"That's cute! This is so interesting...Hikaru is a speed type angel?"   
  
Misaki nodded animatedly. "She's small and light but fast!"   
  
Fuji nodded, testing one of Hikaru's shoulder joints.   
  
Any thought of battle or ideological differences was, by this point, long forgotten. It'd been so long since Misaki had met someone who seemed genuinely interested in Angelic Layer--none of the other AID wards seemed to care, and Misaki hadn't been able to play or spend much time with her friends since she joined the team. She hadn't realized how much she missed just sitting and talking about the game like this. And Fuji-san was nice and kind, just like Oujirou-san...it was easy to get caught up.   
  
"In Angelic Layer, it's your skills and determination and relationship to your angel that let you win!" Misaki blushed a little, but she was just so excited! "Naaaaaaaaaa, I'm sure you think what I just said was dumb, but Hikaru is more than a doll to me--she's my friend."   
  
"No, I think your commitment is admirable," Fuji replied. "In fact, I think--"   
  
"Why is everyone sleeping-dane?" a voice said from the other side of the platform.   
  
"I'm not sure, Yanagisawa-sempai," answered another person.   
  
"Let's just enjoy the view," sighed a third.   
  
For the first time since Misaki had met Fuji-san--it was actually the first time that day-the boy's eyes opened all the way. He turned and peered around the corner. Suddenly, Fuji jumped out of his seat and vaulted the cafe railing, leaving a confused Misaki sitting alone at their table. After a moment, her curiosity got the better of her, and she peeked around that same corner. There, she saw Fuji-san standing with a possessive arm around the shoulders of a blushing, frowning boy with a strange scar just above his eyebrow. Fuji-san's smile was broader, more genuine, and somehow vaguely frightening.   
  
In a rare moment of intuition, Misaki realized Fuji-san was not going to be returning to their "battle" any time soon.   
  
**********   
  
Using his 'Tezuka Zone', Tezuka had slowly managed to take control of the balls and send them flying back at Eriol. Not that it did much good--they fell dead a few feet from where Eriol sat. In spite of Tezuka's counters, the wizard hadn't attacked again--he seemed too amused watching Tezuka wrestle away control of the balls from their shrieking orbits to care.   
  
"Um, Tezuka-san, my battle is over," Misaki said as she joined him, clearly oblivious to the danger she was putting herself in.   
  
Tezuka hit the final two balls away and pointed his racket defiantly at Eriol.   
  
"It's two against one now, Hiiragizawa."   
  
"Yes, it appears that way, doesn't it?" Eriol answered lightly. He didn't even get up.   
  
"_Yield._"   
  
"Really, Tezuka-kun, don't you think if I was really trying I could _easily_ beat both of you?" Eriol chuckled.   
  
"Perhaps, but since your _compatriot_ left the match before the game ended, it's still your loss."   
  
Eriol shrugged. "We could call it a draw, if you and your charming companion leave the Tower first and save fixing the transmitter for another day. I might even be generous and fix the window _you_ so carelessly broke."   
  
"Fine," responded Tezuka gruffly. He grabbed Misaki's wrist and started to pull her away.   
  
"Naaaaaaaaaa! Tezuka-san, I need my bag!"   
  
"Oh ... well just go get it."   
  
He strode toward the down elevator, Misaki trailing behind him with Hikaru and her purchases from the souvenir shop. All around them, visitors to the Tower were waking up. As they waited for an elevator, Tezuka spied Fuji, who seemed completely preoccupied with his brother.   
  
Tezuka sighed. Shirou-san would not be pleased when he heard today's news.   
  
***********   
  
For Subaru, this was turning out to be a very productive day. Not only had Seishirou proved surprisingly helpful, but shortly after he left, Subaru found a message from Shindou waiting for him on his cellphone. While Hikaru was impressively vague, he suggested that he'd found something having to do with Isumi-kun. And even though Hikaru struck Subaru as the cupcake half-iced type (so to speak), even the witless could be used to good advantage. So he was off to locate the little brat and scare him shitless by appearing out of nowhere.   
  
That was always fun.   
  
It wasn't very hard to pick the boy out of the population of Tokyo--a week of stalking him made it easy. Subaru could probably find him in under fifteen minutes blindfolded if he needed to. But just _finding_ him didn't mesh with Subaru's personal sense of style. It lacked a certain...drama.   
  
The key was patience. He just had to wait here, enjoying the sunshine a little bit, and look through the eyes of his shikigami until he turned up the little bleached brat. Once he knew where he was, Subaru could stage the appropriate entrance. It might seem silly, but a good entrance did much of the work of the Sakurazukamori for him. The better the entrance, the more intimidating presence he had, the more likely people were to give him what he wanted.   
  
Something tingled at the edge of Subaru's psychic perception. He frowned, slowly opened one eye and peered off to his side. Just as he thought--a tiny, furry creature watching him, its little nose twitching cutely every now and then.   
  
Subaru sighed, pushed himself off the wall and crouched down to stare right back at the rodent. He gave it a flat and unamused look and poked it roughly with his finger.   
  
"You know ... your lack of effort is almost insulting."   
  
The hamster twitched but made no response.   
  
"I mean, I'm trying to go about living my life, and I have these little adorable rodents watching me, biting me, burrowing under my Tree...You know, even if you manage to _annoy_ me to death, you don't get to be Sakurazukamori."   
  
Subaru suddenly reached out and wrapped his hand around the cute little fluffball before it could flee. With his black gloves, he could barely feel the soft tender fur under his fingers as he squeezed the hamster tightly. It gave one panicked squeak as Subaru crushed the life out of it.   
  
"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU _DOING???_"   
  
Subaru jumped to his feet and threw his hands behind his back like he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.   
  
Arms folded over his chest sternly, there was Shindou Hikaru with a look that could've frozen fire. Without any consideration for what he was doing or who he was doing it to, the boy grabbed Subaru's wrist and wrenched his hand open.   
  
"How could you do that to a poor, defenseless-- huh? Where'd it go?"   
  
What was in Subaru's hand was not the crushed, mangled body of a dead hamster, but a crumpled piece of paper with strange, elegant writing swirled across its face. Hikaru stared at Subaru's palm for fully five minutes before he looked up with wide, amazed eyes.   
  
"Awesome..." he breathed. "You're incredible, Subaru! Now change it back!"   
  
"Uhhh..." Subaru pulled his wrist away slowly. "No."   
  
"Why not?" Hikaru pouted. "I didn't know you did magic tricks. Come on, do the hundred-yen in your ear thing!"   
  
Subaru twitched. "...and how did you find me?"   
  
Hikaru cocked his head to the side and gave Subaru one of those 'I'm-so-sophisticated-I'm-a-teenager" looks. "You were talking to a squirrel in the middle of the street, Subaru. How wasn't I supposed to notice _that?"_   
  
"It was a hamster."   
  
"Whatever."   
  
"And I'm on the sidewalk."   
  
"You know what I mean!" Hikaru sighed.   
  
"Fine, what do you want?"   
  
Hikaru grinned brightly, practically bouncing in place.   
  
"I know something that might interest you."   
  
"And that is?" Subaru asked casually as he reached for his cigarettes.   
  
"First you have to promise to help me with Sai."   
  
Subaru rolled his eyes.   
  
"Out with it, or I'll show you some of my _other_ magic tricks."   
  
"Well, when you asked if Isumi ever did anything _strange...._"   
  
Subaru waited for Hikaru to continue, his fingers fiddling with end of one cigarette in the pack eagerly, but Hikaru just gave him a terribly cocky look that said, "If you want to know, you have to ask."   
  
It was all terribly irritating.   
  
"_....and?_" Subaru sighed.   
  
"Well, he was talking to this _really_ strange guy last night."   
  
Subaru again rolled his eyes and thwacked Hikaru over the head with his pack of cigarettes.   
  
"Idiot, there are lots of psychos in Tokyo ... present company included."   
  
Hikaru rubbed his forehead and grumbled cutely to himself, "Yeah, but I wonder how many of them stand on telephone poles?"   
  
The cigarette fell from Subaru's fingers.   
  
"What did you say?"   
  
"He was standing on a pole ... and wearing a cape. Strange enough for ya?"   
  
Subaru blinked ... It couldn't be.... Well, no, that wasn't true, it absolutely _could be_ and most likely _was_...but only if...   
  
"What did this guy look like?"   
  
Hikaru bit his lip. "Well ... I kind of couldn't see very well because I was trying to make sure Isumi-san wouldn't notice that I was following him. But he was thin, kind of short, dark hair..."   
  
_Kamui..._ Subaru thought. It had to be, there was no possible explanation for it otherwise. The pole standing bit wasn't exclusively a Kamui thing, but the coincidence was too haunting to be ignored.   
  
As calmly as he could, Subaru reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small black book. Flipping through the pages quickly, he asked Hikaru, "How's your Friday?"   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"Are you free tomorrow?"   
  
"Ummmmm ... kind of ... I guess ... why?"   
  
Subaru furiously scribbled some time out in his planner and quickly tore out the page, folding and handing it to a very confused Hikaru.   
  
"Subaru?" The boy blinked at the note in his hand.   
  
"Come to that address tomorrow at 2 o'clock sharp, and we'll see what can be done about your Sai."   
  
Hikaru's face lit up at the promise, but Subaru wasn't there to see it. He had already left the boy bewildered and excited in the middle of the street to pursue some long delayed personal business.   
  
Wankage Official 


	6. Ehhhh?

  
  
Isumi was trying to be open-minded about Kamui's story, but it wasn't easy. Obviously, the "I'm protecting you from a dangerous assassin" thing was pretty hard to swallow (if it was true, why didn't Kamui just go to the police?), but even if you ignored that, Kamui _was_ sort of a suspicious character. On one hand, he knew certain details of how Isumi had come to live with his current family, things Isumi assumed weren't common knowledge. Like the pencil sharpener. How many people could know that whoever had left Isumi on his parents' doorstep had put a pencil sharpener shaped like Tokyo Tower in the basket with him? Not many. Just Isumi himself, his parents, whoever had left him...  
  
  
  
...and the CLAMP Campus Detectives, who Kamui admitted having gotten the sharpener from.   
  
That was where the trouble started. If Kamui and the detectives really did "go back a ways," as he'd said, then Isumi couldn't be sure whether or not Kamui hadn't just gotten the information from them. There was something to be said for candor, maybe, but it didn't look good.   
  
And even if Kamui was forthcoming about _that_, he was irritatingly vague about everything else. The man had been positively stingy with what he was willing tell Isumi, and what he _did_ say Isumi had no way of confirming one way or the other.   
  
It wasn't that Isumi was a suspicious person by nature. He wanted to believe Kamui, but there was still so much left unanswered ... so much that Kamui had deliberately _avoided_ answering. Isumi supposed some of it was own fault--he wasn't prepared for this turn of events and had consequently allowed himself to be steered into blind acceptance of Kamui's story almost without question. But then, how exactly did one prepare for a man claiming to be your biological father dropping (literally) out of nowhere and warning you against associating with a cold-blooded killer? It wasn't exactly the stuff of after-school specials.   
  
Small regrets and doubts aside, though, Isumi found his mood had improved dramatically since earlier that evening. Though he didn't believe Kamui's story, there was something very therapeutic about the idea that someone out there was willing to give up everything to protect him.   
  
Even if that someone was probably legally insane....   
  
Isumi placed another white stone on the board in front of him. He was recreating a game between Ashiwara and Shindou in what he had to admit was a poor attempt at giving himself an idea of what playing Shindou himself would be like. They had played before, of course, but not in an official pro match and not after Shindou had made that remarkable jump in strength and became the formidable player he was now. Their most recent matches were a chain of incompletes--the Pro exam, their game after Isumi's return from China...Isumi was eager for a _real_ game with the bleached-blonde pro.   
  
"All things in time," Isumi hummed to himself, smiling. They were both pros now; fate couldn't prevent a game forever.   
  
The sharp click of a black stone on the board was answered by what sounded like a sharp rap at the window. Isumi paused, almost afraid to look up. It wasn't that he thought it was some kind of psychopath scratching at his window--he just wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was if it _wasn't_ a tree branch.   
  
Then again, maybe it was Kamui-san.....   
  
Isumi peeked over his shoulder and saw a man sitting on his window sill, but it wasn't Kamui. Isumi boggled for a moment--how many people in Tokyo used this unique mode of transportation? Hadn't these people ever heard of sidewalks?   
  
The man gestured to the window. Obviously he wanted in.   
  
"This is probably a bad idea," Isumi murmured as he pulled up the window.   
  
The man poked his head into Isumi's room, his nose nearly brushing Isumi's own as he looked around, green eyes flickering with a carnal sort of amusement. Now that Isumi was closer, he could see that the man was dressed in plain black clothes and what was by far the most unusual trench coat Isumi had ever seen. He didn't think they made trench coats out of mesh fabric--it seemed to defeat the purpose of a trench _coat_ in the first place.   
  
"Uhhh.... can I help you?"   
  
The man smiled cheerfully at him. "Isumi-kun, I presume? Or do I have the wrong window?"   
  
Of course Subaru knew exactly where he was and exactly who Isumi was; that was just his attempt at a joke. The Sumeragis were not renowned for their sense of humor, but one couldn't just snatch a nineteen-year old boy out a second story window and disappear into the night in style anymore. Unusual tactics were needed.   
  
"And you are?" Isumi asked.   
  
"Your father."   
  
Isumi frowned.   
  
"Cute. I'm afraid that position has already been filled, sorry."   
  
When he moved to close the window, one of the man's hands wrapped tightly around his wrist. Subaru smiled again.   
  
"Yes, I heard you met Kamui. I'm the other one."   
  
"Oh like I'm going to belie--- wait a minute what do you mean _the other one_???"   
  
Subaru chuckled lightly and pushed himself the rest of the way through the window.   
  
"Well ... it's a funny story, really... Kamui has a very curious grasp of the truth."   
  
"....meaning?"   
  
"Technically, Kamui's your mother."   
  
Isumi's brain tried to work that out for a moment, then decided the better course of action would be for him to just fall over and lie on the floor in a daze for a bit, which he promptly did. Subaru meanwhile brushed himself off a little bit and settled himself down next to him . Might as well make himself at home.   
  
After a moment, Isumi sat up--very carefully, as if reality had suddenly become fragile and sudden movements inadvisable.   
  
"Wait..." he said. "You mean he's really a _she?_ I thought Kamui was kind of _pretty_ for a guy, but--"   
  
"No, no," Subaru replied firmly, "Kamui's definitely male. I mean, I haven't seen him in a while, so I suppose things could have changed since then, but he was male when _I_ got to him, and I assume he still is."   
  
Isumi folded his legs under him and thought very hard about what he was hearing. It was obvious now ... he was either hallucinating this or someone was playing a very elaborate and very complex joke on him. Granted, he has never been much of a scholar when it came to biology, but he was pretty sure that two _men_ couldn't conceive children together.   
  
Subaru watched Isumi curiously. He didn't understand why the boy found all this so shocking or unusual. Granted, when Subaru had found out that Kamui had somehow managed to conceive and give birth to _his child_, he was a little weirded out by it, but compared to holy swords, eye swapping, twin stars, kekkais, and spirit dogs, male pregnancy seemed almost boringly plausible.   
  
"Oh, of course," Subaru sighed. "I keep forgetting that you grew up around _normal_ people. I'm sure from the perspective of a normal Japanese teenager, there's no precedent for this kind of thing."   
  
"And there is for _you people_??" Isumi replied, incredulous.   
  
Subaru shrugged.   
  
"Kamui's aunt gave birth to a _sword_ once, and in the process-- although I wasn't there to witness it myself-- I understand she exploded. It's actually the second time that happened. So needless to say we weren't so surprised by Kamui being pregnant as we were by the fact that you were _human_ and that he actually survived childbirth."   
  
Isumi stared, wide-eyed.   
  
"But-- but.... _where_ ... ?"   
  
"You know," Subaru sighed philosophically, "after many years to consider it, Isumi-kun, I've decided it's best not to think about _how _and _why_ it happened. Fate has a nasty habit of breaking her own rules just to play sick jokes on Kamui ... you really start to feel bad for him after a while."   
  
***********   
  
Shirou Kamui stood with his hands posed strongly on his hips, wearing the look of a man deeply satisfied with what he saw before him. It was in the grin he wore, the spark in his eyes, even the light way his hair played with the wind. This was his victory pose, Akira imagined, although just what he was so proud of Akira wasn't quite sure. When he looked up, he just saw an ordinary office building, large and clean but nothing awe-inspiring. Maybe Kamui-san had built it?   
  
"Well," Kamui sighed happily, "what do you think?"   
  
Akira took another moment to look at the building again. Now, he was sure it was a fine building in the sense that it probably wasn't going to fall over and crush them in the next five minutes, but other than that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to think.   
  
"Ahh ... it's a nice building," he said finally.   
  
Kamui chuckled. "Wouldn't look twice at it, would you?"   
  
"To be honest ... I wouldn't look _once_ at it."   
  
The somewhat odd older man's expression brightened approvingly.   
  
"Honesty, I like that. Well, that kind of ignoreable quality was exactly what we were going for, so it's actually a compliment that you wouldn't notice it."   
  
Akira gave the generic-looking office building another glance and asked the only possible question he could.   
  
"What is it?"   
  
Kamui's smile filled with excitement and curved slightly into a smirk as he stepped in front of Akira and shot out an arm to point dramatically at building.   
  
"_This_ is the headquarters of AID--**the Anti-Incest Defenders!!**"   
  
"............._what_?"   
  
Kamui swung his arm around Akira's shoulders, guiding him forward across the street and towards the building.   
  
"Now I know what you're thinking--'Why do we even need an anti-incest organization?'. But you see, Touya-kun, incest is a growing problem in our times ... what with the emphasis put on the family here in Japan it's a widespread risk we take in trying to instill in our children the correct values."   
  
Kamui pushed open the large glass door and forcibly urged Akira inside. The inside of the building was actually quite different from its facade. The interior was so fresh, modern and smooth it reeked 'state-of-the-air' like some high budget sci-fi movie. It was not the type of setting that one expected to walk into at all, yet it was meticulously arranged and cared for. Akira was impressed to say the least; there was barely a spot of dirt on the thin glass coffee tables or one stray file on the reception desk.   
  
To be honest, it was a little alarming.   
  
Though maybe not so much so as Kamui.   
  
"From here," he said, "we monitor Japan for possible preventable cases of impending incest, strategize the best ways possible to intervene, educate offenders demonstrating a willingness to reform themselves, and perhaps most important, in those cases where a member of the family is in a high-risk incest environment, we remove the child and house them here."   
  
"Remove them?" Akira echoed. This was all sounding vaguely devious and criminal now. Was he really talking about kidnapping children from around Japan on the absurd claim that their parents 'loved them too much'?   
  
"Ah," Kamui nodded. "For the purpose of training them to defend themselves against the advances of their family. That's if they're willing, of course--just because we want to eliminate incest from our society doesn't mean we want to take away people's freedom to control their own life. Everyone has a choice."   
  
Well, that was kind of a relief. Still, that didn't mean that Kamui-san and his minions didn't put a lot of energy into 'convincing' their chosen prey.   
  
"Ummmm ... how exactly do you determine what a high risk incest environment is?"   
  
Kamui's eyes batted down with a quick cold look, only to shrug it off with a soft sigh. Akira could tell he was trying to seem understanding and friendly, which was the main reason Akira absolutely did not trust him.   
  
"Well...You stay in this business long enough and you can recognize the signs pretty quickly. But like I said, everyone has a choice. If we pick up a high-risk victim and they want to go back to that environment, then we send them on their merry way and hope for the best."   
  
Akira couldn't come up with a response. He just kept looking around the impressive lobby and trying to calculate the most likely explanation for what was really going on. The amount of money and resources apparently available to Shirou Kamui's 'AID' seemed to suggest it wasn't just some bizarre cult, but then cults did have a nasty habit of draining thousands of dollars out of their followers...   
  
Kamui's smile faltered a bit as he got a good look at Akira's reaction.   
  
"Look, I know it's a little weird...."   
  
"_A little_???"   
  
"Well, for you maybe more than 'a little'," Kamui sighed. "But you didn't grow up with the kinds of things I did, Touya-kun. To me, this is nothing."   
  
Akira supposed that was true--the generation of his parents had been filled with tragedy and unexplainable events.   
  
"How .... how is all of this paid for?"   
  
"Our interests concern public health and safety so we get some funding from the government. The rest is all private investors. I have connections here and there to the right people."   
  
"Hnnn."   
  
"If you're impressed with the lobby, just wait until you see past security clearance." Kamui practically bounced, grabbing Akira's hand before he could object and pulling him down the hall. "Come on, I'll give you the tour!"   
  
***********   
  
"And what you're saying is..." Isumi began carefully, "Kamui-san lied to me."   
  
"Well, wouldn't you?" Subaru asked. By this time, he'd made himself more comfortable on Isumi's bed while Isumi had stayed on the floor. "I mean, Kamui was always kind of scrawny and a bit too pretty for his own good; ending up pregnant on top of that must have been _humiliating_. Frankly, I don't blame him--if it were me, I'd have done the same thing."   
  
"No, I understand about that--I mean the other things he said."   
  
Subaru shrugged. "Kamui has been known not to be completely honest about things he'd rather not acknowledge, yes."   
  
"I suppose you're Sumeragi Subaru-san, then, aren't you?"   
  
Subaru raised an eyebrow and tilted his head so that he was looking directly at Isumi instead of staring at the wall. "Sharp boy ... I gather he told you about me, then?"   
  
Isumi nodded. "Are you really an assassin?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Do you really kill people?"   
  
"They'd kick me out of the union if I didn't."   
  
"What do you want with me?"   
  
"You're my son," Subaru said frankly. "And I wasn't really given a say in this whole adoption thing, you know. Kamui just up and took you away without so much as a word to me about it."   
  
"Well, you hardly gave him a choice, did you? Killing his friend and all." Isumi was trying his hardest to keep both his temper and the quick pace of his heart in check. He had unthinkingly let a cold-blooded killer into his room, and Isumi had a feeling that he might not get to play that full game with Shindou if he pushed Subaru too far. But this knowledge did little to quell his anger or his sense of outrage that this man could be so casual about terrorizing Kamui for so long.   
  
Subaru stared at him for one confused moment before he broke out into a louder, heartier laugh than Isumi would've suspected possible from someone who looked so quiet.   
  
"Is _that_ what Kamui told you? That _I_ killed Sorata?"   
  
"Well ... he didn't say it in those words ... but it was pretty clear that--"   
  
"Ah, poor kid." Subaru sat up and pulled Isumi to sit down besides him. "You've fallen victim to another of Kamui's convenient lies of omission. I'm sure he only had your best interests in mind, he always does, but the fact remains I had absolutely nothing to do with Sorata's death."   
  
"Then..."   
  
"Bad Fugu."   
  
"...excuse me?"   
  
"You know, blowfish? It's highly poisonous if it's not prepared correctly. From what I know, it was about two months after you were born, maybe a little less than two months now that I think of it... Sorata and Kamui were very close at the time, not close like .... well, _you know_, but apparently Sorata really took care of Kamui during that _odd_ time." There was an extra emphasis on the word 'odd' that Isumi chose to ignore. "As I understand it, they went out to dinner one night, Kamui ordered the Fugu, took you to the bathroom with him, and when he came back--apparently, Sorata had been nibbling off Kamui's plate and well..."   
  
Subaru shrugged.   
  
"Anyway, I don't think Kamui really ever got over that. The irony of it was enough to drive anyone half-insane right there."   
  
"How do you mean ... irony?" Isumi asked curiously.   
  
"They say Sorata was destined to die for the woman he loved. Now, I'd like to think he managed to overcome that prophecy and died a nice, normal, non-destined death, but when you think about it ... you really could take it as some sick cosmic joke at Kamui's expense, couldn't you?"   
  
"Unnn ... wow."   
  
"Incredible, isn't it?"   
  
"Assuming it's true."   
  
Subaru was amused. "You don't believe me?"   
  
"Is there a reason why I should? Is there any reason to believe either one of you? And at least Kamui-san's version of events was plausible."   
  
Subaru chuckled softly and pulled Isumi up from where he'd been sitting with both hands.   
  
"Well," he replied, guiding Isumi slowly toward the window, "in order to answer that, you're going to have to come with me."   
  
"No way," Isumi snapped, pulling his hands away sharply. He didn't know whether or not to believe Kamui, but right now the telephone pole-sitting capped lunatic was looking a whole lot more trustworthy than the mesh- trench coated assassin lunatic. "Kamui-san told me not to trust you and you haven't given me any reason to question that advice."   
  
"Hm?" Subaru smiled. "All the reason you need is right over there."   
  
  
  
He pointed across the room and nudged Isumi into turning around.   
  
The mirror made Subaru's point for him. There was no way Isumi could look at his reflection and that of the man standing behind him and not see the resemblance. It was simply uncanny. The curves of their faces, their builds, even their hairstyles...so much alike. He really did look like Subaru--except for the eyes, which were quiet clearly Kamui's...   
  
Wait, wait...that was only if--IF!--this this story about Kamui's pregnancy and all its related nonsense was to be believed. Maybe it was all just a coincidence. Some bizarre, bizarre, BIZARRE coincidence...   
  
"As soon as I saw you, I knew you were mine." Subaru's voice had suddenly became a deep, soft purr. Isumi shivered involuntarily. Try as he might, he couldn't think of a good explanation for the resemblance. Even if he blew if off as a coincidence ... there were just so many questions...   
  
"Unfortunately, if you want to see the things I have to show you, you're going to have to just trust me and come with me, Isumi-kun. You're my only son and heir--I'm not going to hurt you."   
  
"Heir?" Isumi echoed softly, eyes still fixated on the mirror reflecting their similar features so perfectly in front of him. "Heir to what?"   
  
"A few things, actually." Subaru smiled again. "Now come on, I promise to have you back before bedtime."   
  
Isumi frowned at the teasing. "Where are we going and what, are we going to fly there?"   
  
Subaru, who already had a leg out the window, gave Isumi a funny look.   
  
"No, I was thinking we'd jump down from here and then take the subway to my apartment if that's okay with you."   
  
"Oh ... sure. But..."   
  
He hesitated, his eyes subconsciously drawn to a little metal glint peaking through the mesh fabric of Subaru's coat and the pale material that was clearly Subaru's naked skin.   
  
"What?" Subaru asked patiently.   
  
"Well..." Isumi paused. "Aren't you cold like that?"   
  
Subaru blinked looked down at his clothes. Unbeknownst to Isumi, he had spent a lot of time considering this outfit. Seishirou had advised to 'wear something memorable' for their special reunion and between the coat, the lace-up thigh-high leather boots, and the nipple ring, this was by far the most memorable thing he had in his closet.   
  
"No, not really."   
  
***********   
  
"Sooooo," Kamui hummed, twisting his large leather desk chair back and forth excitedly. "What do you think?"   
  
Akira looked around the room they were now sitting in--Kamui's office, he assumed. It wasn't flashy or excessive, really; more elegant and tasteful ... the office of a man that poured all he had into his work without any concern for personal profits or status. Akira figured he could at least respect that; whatever strange organization Kamui-san was _really_ running, he didn't appear to be spending all the money from it on himself.   
  
Kamui, meanwhile, was chewing on the end of his pen. A most unsightly thing for someone of his standing to do in front of a guest, but Akira supposed the man was entitled to his little quirks. Assuming this whole "anti-incest defenders" thing wasn't one giant quirk itself.   
  
"Uh, to be honest .... I'm not sure what any of this has to do with me."   
  
Kamui's playful demeanor slipped off his face, but he said nothing. He seemed...conflicted about how best to handle the topic.   
  
"All right," he concluded after much deliberation. Kamui leaned his arms up on his desk and smiled a subtle but cunning smile partially hidden behind his interlaced hands. "I'll level with you, Touya-kun."   
  
_And here we go...._ Akira couldn't help but think.   
  
"I have a son."   
  
"Yes, you mentioned that before."   
  
"My son is one of those high-risk cases I talked about. Level C class 9, to be specific."   
  
Not that specifics were going to do Akira any good, since he had no idea what the code meant. He was, however, surprised by the idea that Kamui's own son was a potential victim of incest. Assuming, of course, that the perpetrator was to be someone other than Kamui himself.   
  
"I gave him up for adoption at a very young age because I couldn't bear the thought of him ..." Kamui smiled politely and apologetically. "Well. I'm sure you can use your imagination about that."   
  
"Yes..."   
  
"At the time, that seemed to be my only option. There was no organization I could appeal to for help. People assume that incest isn't a social problem..." He blew those troublesome strands of hair out of his face with a sigh of many years of frustration.   
  
Then he smiled.   
  
"So I started one."   
  
Feeling as if Kamui was waiting for a response, Akira somewhat halfheartedly assured him, "That's what anyone would do."   
  
Kamui laughed at that. "Well anyway, I've decided not to interfere in his life and the happiness he's found for himself any more than I absolutely have to. And this is where you come in."   
  
Akira blinked. "Pardon?"   
  
"My son plays Go."   
  
"Yes, you mentioned that before as well."   
  
"I'm told he's quite good at it. Turned pro just this last year."   
  
"Oh! Well, congratulations."   
  
Kamui laughed again. "It's hardly something to congratulate _me_ on, Touya-kun." Akira would've agreed--obviously, he hadn't gotten his Go skills from Kamui.   
  
"Besides," Kamui continued, "it just makes things difficult for me. See," he leaned back in his seat again, "normally, I'd just have one of my people handle this. If it was just a school club or something like that, we'd transfer one of our wards in and trust them to handle it. But the Pro world I'm told is just that ... another world.   
  
"We hardly have the time or the resources to prepare one of my people to successfully enter that world for the task." The chair turned harshly just as Kamui's eyes flickered towards Akira. His gaze was sharp and from in profile, like a glare except a little more cautious.   
  
"I want you to keep an eye on him for me."   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"It's not a job that requires much of you, Touya-kun--I just want you to keep your eyes open for a certain relative of his and let me know if he shows up. I can handle keeping an eye on him in his normal day-to-day life, but I need an ally in the Go Institute. You see?"   
  
"Ahh ... but I hardly think--"   
  
Kamui breezed over his attempt at an objection as if he had said nothing. "And in return, I'll let you into the program here."   
  
Akira choked.   
  
"EH? But-- Kamui-san, I'm not--"   
  
"I know, I know--technically, you're not under threat of incest. But you'd be doing me a favor and that outweighs any other criteria. I told you we train the wards here to learn to defend themselves; what I didn't tell you was that they get the best training in anything that may be of use to them to this end. _Anything_. So it's really a very easy situation. You help me with my problem and I'll help you to solve yours. How about it?"   
  
"Well....."   
  
"Touya-kun..." At some point in time, Kamui had crossed in front of his desk and was actually sitting on the edge of it right in front of Akira. "Do you think incest is wrong?"   
  
Akira frowned. "Yes, of course, but--"   
  
"Then there shouldn't be a problem."   
  
"Well, it isn't that simple. I'd like to help, but I can't just take off and leave my family behind me. And it's not like I can tell people 'Sorry, I can't make that tutoring game tonight, I have to save the world from incest'."   
  
Kamui snickered. He didn't seem to be taking Akira's concerns very seriously at all.   
  
"I like that attitude ... a personality like yours might help me with another little problem I'm trying to deal with." He shook that passing thought out of his head with another cheerful laugh and seemed to shift back to serious matters for once.   
  
"As for the other stuff, you needn't worry about it so much. Since you're not under the threat of incest, you'll be free to see your family whenever you like. If it's necessary, you can even continue to stay with your parents. We put our wards up in dorms because the training process is rather intense and it's easier for them to be right in the middle of it, but it's only a requirement in so much as we feel their home environment is dangerous. Since yours is not, I won't insist on it."   
  
The older man smiled, a knowing look in his eyes.   
  
"But wouldn't it be nice to be on your own for a little while? Everyone needs a little independence once and awhile."   
  
Akira bit his lip. On one hand, Kamui did have a point. Akira loved his mother and father dearly, but he was getting a little tired of dealing with an empty house every time his father traveled out of Tokyo, or with having to worry about being respectful of their rules while handling his own schedule. Unlike most kids his age, he didn't really lust for independence ... but he was starting to feel a bit lonely what with his parents rarely around anymore and his own job taking him all over the place.   
  
"I ... what exactly is required of trainees?"   
  
He couldn't believe he was actually considering this...   
  
"Well," Kamui purred. "The principle purpose behind our training program is not just to help potential victims but to give them the opportunity to help others like themselves."   
  
Akira frowned. "Meaning?"   
  
"_Meaning_ upon graduation the student is given the option of joining AID as a full-fledged operative. And if they decline this offer, they go on reserve status."   
  
"Reserve status?"   
  
Kamui smiled lightly. He seemed already bored with what he was talking about. In fact, he had taken out a magazine and was paging through it.   
  
"Reserves remain inactive unless there's an emergency."   
  
_Emergency??_   
  
"Ummm...excuse me Kamui-san ...What exactly constitutes an 'incest _emergency_?"   
  
Kamui's eyes peeked over his magazine, deadly and sharp.   
  
"Pray you never know, Touya-kun. Pray you never know."   
  
Akira squirmed a bit.   
  
"So ..." he said after a reluctant moment, "your goal with this program is to train new recruits."   
  
Kamui smirked a little from behind the comfort of his distraction. "Only in the interest of self preservation--we can hardly stand on our own forever.   
  
"So what do you say? I probably gave you the wrong impression about my time here ... I'm really very busy, so I'll need an answer from you. Now."   
  
"... okay."   
  
To be honest, Akira wasn't completely sure why he agreed to it. He could look at his father's life and the lives of many other Go Pros and know actually where his future lay, but even with the excitement of his rival Shindou Hikaru, that was a bit depressing. Maybe Akira was just ready to change the course of his life and venture into unknown terrain.   
  
Really weird unknown terrain.   
  
"GREAT!"   
  
The magazine went flying. Kamui jumped off the desk, suddenly all unbounded enthusiasm again, and dragged Akira out the door behind him.   
  
"Great!" he repeated. "Good to have you aboard, Akira-kun! I'll show you to the room available-- you don't mind cats, right?"   
  
"Uhhh... huh?"   
  
**********   
  
"What do you think?"   
  
Isumi looked up as Subaru sat a cup of tea on the table next to him. Soft trails of steam rose gracefully from the rim of the cup and faded into the stiff air of Subaru's apartment. The man obviously smoked; Isumi could tell as much as soon as he walked in. The air had a heavy, choked taste to it, and the boy was both a little surprised and a little put off by it. It wasn't the smoke itself--Isumi had had spent the greater part of his life in Go salons, after all--but it was such a bad habit, and a bit distasteful. He might have wondered why he hadn't noticed it until they arrived at the apartment. Subaru should've reeked of tobacco given the smell of this place, but instead, he smelled lightly of sakura...   
  
Isumi looked back at the book in his lap and shook his head. "I never imagined something like this could be possible..."   
  
"Be thankful--I know the man who _could_ imagine it and trust me, you do _not_ want to end up like him."   
  
Isumi blinked. "Eh? Who is it?"   
  
Subaru smiled and slid himself down onto the floor next to Isumi, ruffling his hair playfully as he did so. "I'll introduce you sometime, but not now ... he makes the story much more complicated than it has to be."   
  
"It gets _more_ complicated than all this?"   
  
"You have no idea. This is the nice, logical part of the story. I told you, we weren't really that surprised by Kamui ending up pregnant. It wasn't the strangest thing any of us had witnessed--not by half."   
  
"In fact," Subaru mused with a little grin, "I think it was rather boring in comparison."   
  
"You're kidding."   
  
"A little, yeah."   
  
Isumi blew lightly on his tea as he turned another page.   
  
A photo album lay open across his lap. It was slightly worn with age, and the colors in some of the pictures weren't as bright or vivid as they once might have been, but Isumi didn't particularly care. This wasn't just a book--this was _him._   
  
He had baby pictures at home, but nothing like this. As far as Isumi could tell, Subaru's album consisted entirely of pictures of Isumi as an infant. There were variations on the theme--Isumi lying in a crib, Isumi being fed, Isumi getting a bath--but it always came back to the same thing. Fragments of Kamui were scattered about, but it was clear who the focus of the album was. It seemed the only reason Kamui was represented at all was because Isumi was so often found clinging to him in that delightfully adorable way infants need the embrace of their parents.   
  
Isumi turned the page again and found a rather large portrait of him and Kamui outside on a clear spring day, the baby's head resting just under Kamui's chin and Kamui dressed in an intricate formal kimono. The cloth was yellow with pink and blue embroidered patterns decorating it and little hints of the palest of green giving the garment and unearthly sheen. The spring breeze had carried Kamui's hair slightly away from his face just as the camera had captured a frozen moment of elegance. The baby's own eyes were open wide and curious, staring directly at the camera, his thumb partly in his mouth.   
  
"Oh wow..." Isumi breathed.   
  
Subaru peeked over Isumi's shoulder curiously and laughed when he saw the picture.   
  
"Oh god ... _that_ photo was a nightmare."   
  
"It was? It doesn't look it..."   
  
"Yes, very much so. Kamui hates kimonos ... I mean he _**hates**_ them. Normally I'd have to break his arms and legs to get him in one, but on that day he was a little more agreeable.   
  
"Although not much more agreeable."   
  
"What's wrong with kimonos?" Isumi asked curiously. After another moment's reflection on the photo, he added, "He looks nice in it."   
  
"That's the problem. Kamui's very sensitive about bringing out his natural beauty. He thinks kimonos make him look like a girl."   
  
Maybe it was just the baby in his arms, but Isumi could see where that came from--Kamui _did_ look very maternal. With such a strong feminine presence, had Isumi not already met the man in person, he might have looked at this picture and assumed without question that Kamui was a woman.   
  
"He looks so ... elegant and reserved."   
  
Isumi wanted to say 'sad', but that wasn't quite right. There was a general air of melancholy around Kamui in the picture, but was not as obvious as sadness, not as dramatic as sorrow either. It was just a ... stillness in the photo.   
  
"Yes, well, _that_ was in-between the snapping at anything that moved and the temper tantrum he nearly threw," Subaru grumbled.   
  
Isumi paused.   
  
"What happened to you guys anyway? Why does Kamui hate you so much?"   
  
Subaru shrugged.   
  
"He never really did get past the assassin thing. That and I left him to fulfill some of my own responsibilities and I think he took that personally. Silly me, it never _occurred_ to me that the 16 year old _**boy**_ I slept with might end up _pregnant_ ... but that didn't stop Kamui from claiming I knocked him up and abandoned him.   
  
"Kamui's really a sweet boy whose lived a very hard life. I don't think he's all there anymore, really. But then, we haven't spoken in nearly 20 years..."   
  
Isumi looked down at the pictures in his lap quietly. To say that he was in an odd situation would be the understatement of the millennium, but somehow he was feeling that--despite apparently being the offspring of two men--things were simpler than they seemed at first glance. Wasn't it possible that Kamui had just allowed his bitterness to exaggerate what kind of person Subaru was? No doubt the experience of carrying and giving birth to a child had been immasculating and humiliating in the first place, and then to have a falling-out with a lover on top of that .... Well, normal people certainly became much nastier over much less.   
  
And now that he had meet the notorious Sumeragi Subaru, Isumi felt convinced that the urgency of Kamui's warning was merely tinted by the pain of his past.   
  
But an assassin was still an assassin ... and Isumi didn't like that this man openly and freely admitted to killing others. No matter how nice he seemed, no matter how comfortable he made Isumi feel, no matter what relation he was to Isumi, an assassin was still an assassin.   
  
It was too early to trust him; doing so would be foolish.   
  
"I can hardly imagine how it's possible.." Isumi said finally. "But in a way I believe it, because the child in these pictures ... it just _feels_ like me."   
  
And they did look so much alike, he and Subaru.   
  
Subaru leaned back against the wall behind him. "We need that picture book ... what was it called? 'Isumi Has Two Daddies'."   
  
"But technically," Isumi held up some fingers childishly, "I have _three._"   
  
"Right then ... how about 'Isumi Has _Entirely Too Many_ Daddies', then?"   
  
Isumi laughed.   
  
"By the way, I never bothered to find this out .... it's Isumi _what_?"   
  
"Shinichiro..." Isumi replied softly. There was something very troubling about saying that now, because he knew that he had been a couple months old when his parents had adopted him. He had assumed that Shinichiro had been the name his biological parent (or parents) had given him and that his last name had just been changed. But if Subaru didn't know it...   
  
"What's my real name?"   
  
Subaru blinked.   
  
"By 'real', I assume you mean the name given to you when you were born? You don't have one."   
  
"What? Why not?"   
  
"Kamui refused to give you one. I don't think you should take it personally--he was in shock for a little bit, and I think in his mind if he gave you a name, it was like accepting that you were real. Fate has a nasty habit of totally destroying Kamui's life as soon as he's finally accepted something ... In a way, I guess he was afraid. If he accepted you as a real human being and not some thing that destiny had thrown at him, something horrible might happen ... he might lose you.   
  
"I always just called you 'boy'." Subaru shrugged. "Kamui's pretty stubborn, but he comes around eventually, so I had no intention of pushing the issue. But then, I had no idea he was going to give you up. I thought there was time."   
  
So he had been a nameless anomaly to Kamui, then, perhaps even a burden . Isumi wasn't about to pretend it was a flattering revelation, and though he tried to sympathize, tried to imagine a world in which Kamui's experiences had been his own, it didn't make it hurt any less. He had been 'boy' to his biological parents ... hardly even a human being. Who was to say that in the privacy of his own thoughts Kamui didn't look upon him with contempt?   
  
"Hmmm..."   
  
Subaru's sigh broke the unsteady quiet that the apartment had fallen into. He was staring at his watch with a small frown on his face--the look a child forced to quiet playing and come in because it's getting dark.   
  
"It's late ... we should probably get you back home."   
  
Isumi was just as disappointed.   
  
"So soon? There's so much more I want to know..."   
  
Subaru pulled the unwilling Isumi to his feet.   
  
"It's probably better to stop here. Like I said, it's a long, strange story--best to take it in small, easily-digestible pieces."   
  
That was probably smart, Isumi reflected. In the space of a few hours, he'd not only found his birth parents, but also learned he was the product of a logic-defying male pregnancy--he needed time to process it all.   
  
But even though the biological logistics of it were enough to give anyone a whole month's worth of deep meditation, Isumi's heart had already accepted it as the truth. Not just because he could see the physical resemblance to both of his parents, but because ... he felt on some subconscious level as if he knew them. Isumi didn't know anything about what kind of psychological bonds one forms with ones parents in early infancy, but he could believe both Subaru and Kamui when they said they were his parents. It just felt _right_ on some level.   
  
And really, what did it matter how you came into the world once you were already here? And Isumi was sure it would all make more sense the more he learned about the past.   
  
"Will you tell me the what really happened? The whole story?"   
  
Isumi picked up the photo album and tried to find it's approximate location of the book shelve in front of him. There were a lot of different albums in Subaru's library, all painstakingly organized under some sort of system, but Isumi couldn't figure it out for the life of him and remembering exactly where Subaru had pulled this one from was just as difficult.   
  
"I'd be happy to ... and you can keep that if you like."   
  
"Really? Oh, but I wouldn't want to ... I mean, they're your--"   
  
"I want you to have it. Anyway, that's just volume five of thirteen. Now we'd better get going."   
  
Isumi's mind went fwip.   
  
_Volume **FIVE** out of THIRTEEN????_ In three months Subaru had been able to fill up _thirteen albums_ with pictures of Isumi? That couldn't be right...Isumi looked up at the bookshelf again-- there couldn't be more than twenty albums total. That seemed like a lot for anyone--Isumi had assumed that Subaru had some sort of amateur photography hobby at first--but to think that _thirteen_ of those twenty-something books were all of him?   
  
**_Damn._**   
  



	7. Annex 1 : Classic Fairytales

Classic Fairytales  
By: Perrault Grimm Borgia 

Little Misaki Ridinghood 

Once upon a time there lived a little girl named Misaki, who lived with her mother Shuuko in a cottage next to a large woods. On the other side of the woods, lived the girl's Aunt Shouko. The three women had a very close and intimate relationship and lived in quiet bliss. Misaki's mother loved her so much that she made Misaki a red cape and hood to wear whenever she went to visit her aunt. Because of this, everyone began to call her "Little Misaki Ridinghood." 

Every week, Little Misaki Ridinghood would travel through the forest to stay a few days with her aunt before returning to her mother. One day while getting ready for this journey, her mother warned her to be extra vigilant, as rumor had it that some sort of evil creature was lurking in the woods and stealing children away. Despite her fears, Little Misaki Ridinghood desired to spend time with her aunt and decided to make the trip anyway. She brought her angel Hikaru with her to keep her company.

Little Misaki Ridinghood was only about halfway through the woods when she was startled by a nervous but good-looking young man.   
  
"Good day little girl," he called. 

"Naaaaaaaa!" she squeaked.

"And where might you be going and what are you carrying?" he asked.

"To stay with my aunt a few days and this is my angel, Hikaru."

Misaki lifted up her angel so the man in the tennis uniform could see better.

"Naaaa! Do you know anything about some evil creature in the woods that is kidnapping children, my mother warned me about it?" she wondered, suddenly concerned.

The man frowned and seemed perturbed.

"Are you sure this trip is a wise decision?" he responded to Misaki. 

While Misaki thought about his question, he started reaching to grab her. Before he could, he thought he heard someone coming and ran off. 

"Naaaaaaaaa!" responded Misaki, who was surprised when she looked up to see that the man had vanished.

The man realized he couldn't easily convince Misaki to leave with him in the middle of the forest, so instead jogged to her aunt's house. Once there, he knocked on the door, tricked Shouko into letting him in, tied her up and placed her in a broom closet. Putting on a wig, he climbed into Shouko's bed and pulled the covers up to his nose. Patiently, he waited for Little Misaki Ridinghood to arrive.

It wasn't long before he heard her knock on the door.

"Please come in," he called imitating her aunt.

Little Misaki Ridinghood entered the cottage and immediately went into her aunt's bedroom. Looking at the person in the bed, she became a bit perplexed.

"Naaaaaaa! Shouko-san, why are you wearing glasses?" proclaimed Misaki.

"The better to see you with my dear," answered the man.

The Misaki approached the bed.

"Naaaaaaaa! Shouko-san," she continued. "What big hands you have!"

"The better to hold you with my dear."

She pulled back the covers to climb into the bed.

"Naaaaaaaa! Shouko-san," she exclaimed, "You're still wearing all your clothes!"

"The better to carry you off and make you an AID ward my dear!" growled the man.

Little Misaki Ridinghood shrieked in horror, but the man from AID had extremely fast reflexes and grabber her wrist. She tried to fight him, but he refused to release her and dragged her out of the house. All seemed lost for Little Misaki Ridinghood, when a nearby Borgia agent heard her cries of despair.

"Tezuka! Release Misaki-chan!" the Borgia agent ordered.

Tezuka stared at Fuji shocked. His momentary pause enabled Little Misaki Ridinghood to hit his bad elbow so that she could run and join Fuji. Realizing he'd lost his intended prey, Tezuka left empty-handed for AID headquarters.

Together, Fuji and Little Misaki Ridinghood found Shouko and untied her. Fuji warned Little Misaki Ridinghood of the dangers of AID agents and both Little Misaki Ridinghood and her aunt thankfully promised Fuji to be more conscientious in the future. Fortunately, Tezuka never bothered the family again and they were able to live happily ever after.

Snow Isumi and the Seven Go Players 

Once upon time there lived a beautiful ruler, Kamui, who wished to have a family. Much to his shock, he one day gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, who was called Isumi. Kamui tried to be a good parent to Isumi, but unfortunately Kamui had a tendency to be jealous and a little overzealous in things. In particular, Kamui did not want to share his son with the baby's father Subaru. Everyday Subaru would come and visit the baby and give him lots of bubble baths. Insane with envy, Kamui would go to his dreamgazer, Kakyou, for advice.

"Kakyou, Kakyou, in your dream, tell me the future that you deem?" Kamui would ask. 

Kakyou in his usual obtuse way, would then reveal the future. But since none of these revelations had anything to do with Subaru and Isumi, Kamui let it pass.

When Isumi was 4 months old, Kamui went to Kakyou as he always did.

"Kakyou, Kakyou in your dream, tell me the future that you deem?"

"Subaru loves Isumi true, I'd hide him away if I were you."

Kakyou's proclamation filled Kamui with dread. He called upon his newest ward, Akira to take Isumi into the forest and find someplace to hide him. When Subaru came that day to visit baby Isumi, his heart was filled with despair to find his son gone.

Meanwhile, Akira took the baby Isumi to the Go Institute. 

"What are we supposed to do with a baby?" asked Kaga.

"I'm not changing his diapers," grumbled Waya.

"I think he's sort of cute," offered Tsutsui helpfully.

"Is he yours Touya?" questioned Hikaru.

Mitani thwapped Hikaru on the head. "Touya is a boy, boys don't have babies."

Akira stayed silent and didn't correct Mitani.

"This baby better not ruin my concentration," complained Ochi as he pushed his glasses up his nose. 

"I'll look after the baby," sighed Akira, though he knew it would cut into his game time and might allow Hikaru to catch up to him.

And so baby Isumi was raised at the Go Institute by the 7 Go players. (Well, one really played shougi, but let's not argue technicalities.) He loved the Go players very much, and enjoyed playing Go just like they did. Subaru continued to search for his son to no avail and Kamui continued to ask his dreamgazer about the future, his insane jealousy still not abated.

"Kakyou, Kakyou in your dream, tell me the future that you deem?"

"19 years have gone by, but Subaru's success is almost nigh."

"What?!?!" shouted Kamui enraged.

"He's going to find Isumi-kun," answered Kakyou.

Upset, Kamui rushed out of his castle. Figuring there was only one place Akira could have taken Isumi, Kamui went to the Go Institute. There, he saw a beautiful 19 year old boy who he knew had to be his son. Concerned that somehow Subaru would still find the boy, he decided he would have to cast a spell on Isumi.

"Hi! Isumi-kun"

"How do you know my name? And uhhh why are you wearing a cape?" asked a startled Isumi when Kamui appeared.

"It doesn't matter. I have a gift for you."

"For me?" answered Isumi perplexed.

"This is a magic Go-ban that contains the spirit of a great Go master, but you must stare at it until you see a blood stain."

Isumi took the Go-ban and immediately began staring at it in hopes of seeing a blood stain, while Kamui ran back to the palace.

The 7 Go Players returned home and were surprised to find Isumi staring at a Go-ban. 

"It must be an evil spell," stated Akira authoritatively.

Fortunately, at that moment, Hikaru tripped on Isumi, thus breaking his concentration and ending the spell.

"You really are bizarre Isumi!" snorted Mitani. "And you are a klutz."

"What were you doing?" questioned Tsutsui.

"I was told that if I stared at the Go-ban I would see blood stains and then a spirit of a Go Master would come out of the board.

"Sai!" moaned Hikaru.

Waya kicked Hikaru.

"We have many games to play Isumi, so next time be more careful," lectured Kaga.

The next day Kamui went to his dreamgazer and called:

"Kakyou, Kakyou in your dream, tell me the future that you deem?"

"Isumi is again awake, his concentration was easy to break."

Kamui blinded with fury, hurried back to the Go Institute where he found Isumi alone, while the 7 Go Players were out at tournaments.

"Hi Isumi-kun!"

"Aren't you that guy from yesterday?" asked Isumi sort of confused.

"It doesn't matter. I have a gift for you. These are the sacred 'Go Stones'."

"Why are the white ones pinkish?" frowned Isumi.

"You don't want to know," stated Kamui. "If you hold them in your hand, you'll be able to see the 'Hand of God'."

Isumi took them in his hand and then collapsed to the ground caught in another spell. Kamui once again returned back to the castle, assured that his plan would succeed.

The 7 Go Players were quite shocked when they came back from their matches and found Isumi collapsed on the ground.

Mitani and Kaga were really underimpressed with Isumi upon finding him and feared he'd spent too much time with Akira and Tsutsui while growing up. Fortunately, for Isumi, when Waya went to check his pulse he knocked the sacred 'Go Stones' from Isumi's hand, thus breaking the spell.

"Mother?!?!" squeaked Akira.

"That's not your mother, those are only Go stones," lectured Ochi, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Everyone is going to finally realize Isumi is even dumber than me!" announced Hikaru gleefully.

Waya thwapped Hikaru on the head.

"Please don't accept anymore Go paraphernalia from strangers Isumi," warned Tsutsui, who was starting to worry that Hikaru was right.

The next day Kamui went to his dreamgazer once again and called:

"Kakyou, Kakyou in your dream, tell me the future that you deem?"

"The stones have left Isumi's hand, give up and pick another stand."

Kamui burning with anger, hurried back to the Go Institute where once again he found Isumi alone.

"Hi Isumi-kun!"

Isumi frowned.

"It doesn't matter. I have a gift for you."

"No more gifts. Everyone is starting to think I'm as dumb as Hikaru," complained Isumi.

Kamui smiled affably. 

"All right no more gifts, would you like a drink of some CC Lemon, you look thirsty."

Isumi was awful thirsty, playing Go does that to you, but he still wasn't sure he should accept anything from the strange man in a cape who had tricked him twice before. But CC Lemon was his favorite. Finally, his thirst overwhelmed any common sense he had and Isumi took the can from Kamui and drank deeply.

"You trr-ii-c," slurred Isumi was he fell into a deep sleep.

Kamui laughed, knowing that this spell could only be broken by true love's first kiss. Satisfied that now Subaru would never have Isumi, Kamui returned to his palace.

The 7 Go Players were not surprised when they came back from their matches and found Isumi crumpled on the floor, a can of CC Lemon still in his hand. Not seeing any Go paraphernalia, they started to worry that this time it was something serious. Hikaru thought Isumi was dead and started to weep, but Ochi checked his pulse and discovered he was only asleep. Not really sure what to do with a sleeping 19 year old, Hikaru suggested putting him in a glass coffin, he'd read it in some book, and the others tired after a long day of Go agreed.

The next day Kamui went to his dreamgazer once again and called:

"Kakyou, Kakyou in your dream, tell me the future that you deem?"

"Isumi is still sound asleep, though your peace won't be long to keep."

Pleased with this answer, Kamui took Kakyou out for a romantic dinner for two.

A few days later, Waya suggested trying to get an onmyouji in to see if they could lift the spell. (Having a pretty 19 year old boy sleeping a glass coffin in the lobby was getting distracting.) Mitani was skeptical, but Tsutsui, concerned about Isumi, readily agreed and they called the Sumeragis. Busy with other cases, the Sumeragis sent Subaru, who was an onmyouji, to see what sort of spirit could have posessed a Go Player. Subaru went to the Go Institute, someplace he had never been before, and was ecstatic to discover the sleeping boy was his long lost son. Filled with joy he rushed to Isumi and placed a kiss on the sleeping boy's lips, awakening him. 

Thus despite Kamui's machinations, the future was already decided, and Subaru and Isumi lived happily ever after.

CinderSyaoran 

Once upon a time a powerful King had a sister who married a merchant. The King was so upset by this, that he stopped speaking to his sister. The sister, Yelan, had 5 beautiful children with her husband before he passed away. Their youngest child, a boy named Syaoran, felt his father's loss most keenly and planted a sakura branch on his father's grave which he tended carefully until it became a beautiful tree. Because Syaoran was the only boy in the family, he was often ordered around and forced to wear girl's clothing by his sisters and mother. He lived in constant fear of their unpredictable natures. Often he would try hiding from them in the fireplace and so got the nickname CinderSyaoran.

One day the Li family received word that the King was giving a ball in honor of Prince Eriol and that they were all invited. The Li family was quite excited, though Yelan hadn't told any of her children that they were related to the King, and preparations were made for the ball. CinderSyaoran asked his mother if he too could attend the ball, but was told his magic wasn't powerful enough and he was too young. Annoyed, CinderSyaoran, sulked in his room with the door locked while the rest of the family got in a coach to head to the castle. 

"Syaoran-kun, don't wait up for us!" called his mother.

Angry that once again he had been mistreated by his family, he went outside to share his troubles with the beautiful sakura tree on his father's grave.

"Do you like sakura?" asked a vaguely creepy but good-looking man in dark glasses.

"Who are you?" sputtered the blushing boy.

The stranger smirked. "I'm your fairy Sakurazukamori, and I'm hear to grant your wish."

"My wish?!" echoed the bewildered boy.

"You want to go to the ball right?"

CinderSyaoran nodded still confused by the man's sudden appearance.

"Here," Seishirou handed CinderSyaoran a lovely red jacket with gold braid, a pair of white pants, a red mask and a pair of slippers as pure as gold. 

"B-b-b-but" stuttered CinderSyaoran.

Seishirou looked amused. He pulled a blossom from the tree and it became a beautiful pink-colored coach. 

"Just be sure to be back by midnight, because that is when the magic wears off. If not you'll have to get back on your own."

CinderSyaoran thanked his fairy Sakurazukamori and rushed into the house to change into his new clothes. Once outfitted, he climbed into his magic coach and departed for the dance.

Upon his arrival at the ball, CinderSyaoran stared at the beautiful Princess Sakura. He was so busy staring at her and turning scarlet, that he didn't notice that someone had come up behind him and was tapping him on the shoulder. Turning around, he found himself face to face with Prince Eriol, the King's younger brother. 

"Care to dance?" asked Prince Eriol with a smirk.

CinderSyaoran stood there trying to stammer out a response, while Prince Eriol took him by the hand and lead him onto the dance floor. 

"Have we met before?"

"No," murmured CinderSyaoran trying not to get embarrassed by all the people watching him dance with the prince. 

"I'm sure you know who I am, but I don't know who you are," teased Prince Eriol as he twirled CinderSyaoran around the dance floor.

"I'm a uhhh CinderSya-- I mean Sya-" blustered CinderSyaoran.

Prince Eriol laughed.

When the dance ended Prince Eriol, kept CinderSyaoran by his side and wouldn't leave the flustered boy alone for a second. They were just getting ready to dance again, when the clock struck midnight. Prince Eriol was shocked when CinderSyaoran suddenly looked horrified and ran from the ballroom. 

CinderSyaoran was running so fast he didn't even realize he left behind one of his shoes on the palace steps. Fortunately, he made it to his coach before it turned back into a sakura flower and arrived home before his mother and sisters.

Hurrying after the boy who had stolen his heart, Prince Eriol found only the shoe on the steps. He immediately picked it up and placed it in his pocket. The next morning, Prince Eriol awoke early and cast a spell to locate the person who had left the shoe behind. He followed the casting through the streets of the town until he was standing in front of the Li residence. Prince Eriol knocked on the door. His sister Yelan was surprised to see him. Patiently, Eriol explained he was looking for the person who had stolen his heart. His nieces all came running into the room, all hoping it was one of them, but when they saw the shoe they knew it was obviously not.

"Does anyone else live in the house?" Prince Eriol asked his sister.

"No," answered Yelan.

Prince Eriol opened his eyes, as he looked pointedly at her. 

"Well, only my worthless son, but he is nothing."

Despite Yelan's protests, CinderSyaoran was brought before the prince. As soon as Prince Eriol saw CinderSyaoran, he knew it was the boy he had danced with all night. (That and the spell.) Getting down on one knee he proposed to CinderSyaoran. The boy blushed and without waiting for a further response, Prince Eriol swept him away to return to the palace. Prince Eriol and Syaoran were wed and in marrying his nephew the rift between the family was healed. Both boys lived happily ever after.

Sleeping Yuuta 

Once upon a time there lived a beautiful King and Queen who had a tendency to always smile. They had a daughter, Yumiko, who shared this family trait and 10 years later, a son, Shuusuke, who also had the same unnerving smile. A year after the birth of Shuusuke, the Queen gave birth to a 3rd child, a boy, who did nothing but scowl and cry. Excited, the King and Queen named the little uke, Yuuta, and planned a huge celebration for his first birthday. (The royal family had a long history of producing evil genki children so whenever a little uke was born it was cause for great celebration.) They invited leaders of the 7 major organizations in their country to the birthday party. To honor these illuminaries, they had 3 apples made by the royal jewelers for each of them: One of gold, one of rubies and one of emeralds.

The celebration was going rather well, (Though 2 year old Prince Shuusuke refused to leave his baby brother's side, having just learned the word "mine", and was now attempting to teach Prince Yuuta how to say "Aniki.") when a page came running to the King and Queen and announced the arrival of an AID agent. A hush fell over the assembled guests. Knowing their political viewpoints ran contrary to AID's purpose, the royal family had not invited an AID representative to the celebration. Now that one had arrived, they hastened to set a place for him, for fear of the damage he could do to their family. Unfortunately, they had only had 7 sets of apples made, so they had nothing to present to the AID representative who frowned at them from his place on the dais.

As the festivities drew to a close, each of the representatives went up to the baby under Prince Shuusuke's watchful gaze and gave Prince Yuuta a magical gift. 

"May his brother remain devoted to him," gifted the Head of the Sumeragis.

"May he always be innocent and easy to take advantage of," gifted the Sakurazukamori.

"May he have a high tolerance for pain," gifted the /Kamui/ of the Chi no Ryu.

"May his bro-lover always find him amusing," gifted the Rijichou of Clamp Campus.

"May his bro-lover always be obsessed with him," gifted Ogata 10-dan.

"May he always compete with his bro-lover but never surpass him," gifted the King of Tennis.

The AID representative glared at the 'King of Tennis' and stood before the baby and his toddler guardian. 

"On his 13th birthday, he will prick his finger on a spinning wheel and fall into the power of AID!" shouted the wicked representative in a powerful voice.

The King fainted in horror and Prince Shuusuke placed a protective arm in front of his baby brother.

"Mada mada dane!" laughed the AID agent as he departed from the party in a shower of sparks and tennis balls.

Princess Yumiko wept quietly and the Queen was heartbroken until a voice interrupted their sorrow.

"I can't completely undo the curse my fellow representative placed," explained the Borgia agent, "But I can ameliorate it, as I haven't given my gift yet."

The Borgia agent reached into his uniform and pulled out a strange metal key.

"O key that contains the power of darkness! Reveal your true form to me! By our contract, I, Eriol, command you! RELEASE!"

Eriol pointed his staff towards the baby's bassinet.

"He will prick his finger on his 13th birthday, but he will only sleep, until true love's first kiss awakens him."

After the celebration ended, the King and Queen burned every spinning wheel in the country and never told Prince Yuuta about the curse placed on him for fear it would come true. 

As each year passed, the gifts from the other six representatives became more and more apparent in Prince Yuuta. Prince Shuusuke was completely devoted to his younger brother and it seemed clear the brothers were destined for one another. (Particularly, after they caught Prince Shuusuke trying to write his name on Prince Yuuta under a sakura tree when the boys were still in kindergarten.) Wanting to prevent AID from ever being able to steal their youngest child, the King and Queen encouraged Prince Shuusuke's protective behavior towards Prince Yuuta.

The day of Prince Yuuta's 13th birthday dawned bright and clear. Prince Shuusuke left the palace early to start work on his special gift for his younger brother. When Prince Yuuta discovered his brother gone, he decided it might be a good idea to spend the day in hiding as he wasn't sure he wanted a special gift from Aniki. While looking for a new hiding place, (This wasn't the first time Prince Yuuta had tried to hide from his brother.) Prince Yuuta found a door leading to a high tower that he had never noticed before. He climbed to the top of the tower where he found a young boy sitting at a weird contraption.

"What is that?" asked Prince Yuuta.

"It's a spinning wheel," answered the boy, an arrogant grin on his face. "But I don't think you should use it, you need a lot of talent to do it correctly." 

The spinner paused dramatically before adding "Fuji-sempai's younger brother."

"Oi! I'm Fuji Yuuta, my own person! And I'm just as talented as Aniki."

The boy smirked as Prince Yuuta sat down at the spinning wheel. When Prince Yuuta tried to thread it, he pricked his finger on the spindle having never used a spinning wheel before.

"I f-f-f-f-f-e-e-" mumbled Prince Yuuta as he collapsed onto a nearby bed that had appeared magically.

"Mada mada Dane" laughed Ryoma as he cast a spell on the whole castle putting everyone within its walls into the same deep sleep as Prince Yuuta. This way none of them could aid the sleeping prince and Sleeping Yuuta would effectively be in the power of AID. Ryoma left his gift fulfilled.

Not longer afterwards, Prince Shuusuke returned home and was surprised when no one greeted him. The castle also seemed oddly silent, when everyone ought to be preparing for Prince Yuuta's birthday. In the main hall, Prince Shuusuke found his parents and sister sleeping soundly. Being a prodigy, Prince Shuusuke immediately ascertained that Prince Yuuta must have pricked his finger on a spindle causing everyone to fall asleep. (It was his 13th birthday and his destiny had been foreordained.) Still wanting to give Prince Yuuta his special gift, Prince Shuusuke created a shikigami to search for his brother. 15 minutes later it returned, and told Prince Shuusuke the information he needed to set off immediately on his quest.

Happily, Prince Shuusuke ascended the stairs leading to the top of the tower where Prince Yuuta lay sleeping. Upon seeing his brother sound asleep, he pulled out a small camera and took a few pictures. Prince Yuuta always looked so adorable when he was sleeping. Not being able to just let his brother sleep peacefully, Prince Shuusuke climbed onto the bed and placed a kiss on his brother's lips.

Prince Yuuta opened his eyes and blushed when he realized his brother was not only kissing him, but was lying on top of him and kissing him.

"Aniki!" he exclaimed.

"And now to give you the rest of your special gift" smiled Prince Shuusuke pulling out a pair of fuzzy handcuffs and a container of lubricant.

"Anikiiiiiiiiiii" gasped Prince Yuuta.

After recovering from Prince Shuusuke's special gift, the two boys went downstairs to their now awake parents. The King and Queen were thrilled that the threat of the wicked AID agent had been ended so quickly and easily. As a reward for Prince Shuusuke's devotion, they gave him Prince Yuuta. (Not that they hadn't been planning on doing this anyway, it just finally became official.) And so Prince Shuusuke and Prince Yuuta were married and lived happily ever after.


	8. He's Going To Spew

  
  
"Oh, yes, red is a _stunning_ color on you, Fuji-san," the tailor agreed anxiously. "But..."   
  
"But what?"   
  
The tailor paused in mid-stitch. He was always hesitant about questioning a client's specific requests, and never more so than when dealing with a member of the Sakurazuka family. On one hand, the clan's name carried with it certain expectations of bearing and prestige, so a tailor who intended to keep their business probably ought to warn them when a particular fashion choice might not be in the family's best interest.   
  
On the other hand, the Sakurazuka name also carried with it certain _other_ characteristics that might result in a loose-lipped tailor being turned into plant food...   
  
He looked up anxiously. Normally, seeing a customer's friendly smiling face (with a slightly puzzled look) meant they were receptive to your suggestions, but with Fuji-san ... one never quite knew when it was safe.   
  
"Well, sir ... you see..."   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"I think..maybe..."   
  
"Mmhmm?"   
  
"It's just...this outfit..."   
  
"Go ahead."   
  
"You look like a Chinese crack whore," Seishirou provided helpfully from across the room.   
  
The tailor grimaced. Fuji looked up, then back at the dressing room mirror.   
  
"Really? I _like_ it." He turned to the tailor. "Don't _you_ like it?"   
  
"Uh--"   
  
"In that outfit, I could buy you on the street for 50 yen and a happy meal," Seishirou snorted, not looking up from his newspaper. Fuji frowned at him.   
  
"Perhaps, Fuji-san ... we should lengthen the skirt a bit?" the tailor said nervously. One unhappy Sakurazuka was bad enough, but he sure as hell didn't want to be caught between _two_ of them.   
  
Fuji turned to face the mirror again, hands on his hips, expression thoughtful.   
  
The outfit in question was a formfitting Chinese high-collared dress (red) with long, voluminous black sleeves. At the bottom of each was sewn a small gold bell, which rang a pleasant _ting_ as Fuji turned to see the back. Delicate patterns blossomed gold across the red satin. When you put it together with the black headband and a fresh red chrysanthemum tucked behind the ear, it was quite a fetching ensemble.   
  
What bothered the tailor and elicited Seishirou's commentary wasn't so much the cross-dressing aspect as the skirt--or rather, the lack thereof. Fuji had complained that even with the slit up the side, the skirt seriously restricted his movement. So he'd suggested they shorten it a bit. And then a bit more. And a bit more. And so on and so forth until it was so short it seemed unlikely that Fuji could sit down in the damn thing without giving everyone in the vicinity a free peep show. Oh, and the slits was still there, curving scandalously high up both thighs. At one point, the tailor started to wonder whether the alterations were designed more to further Fuji-san's "political goals" in the bedroom than on the battlefield.   
  
"Seishirou-san is being too critical," Eriol said. "I think it's _charming._"   
  
"You _would_ think so," Seishirou sneered.   
  
"Don't be difficult Seishirou-san, Shuusuke-kun needs our support and guidance."   
  
Seishirou shrugged and turned the page. "I never said I didn't like it--I was simply stating what it _looked_ like."   
  
"And what **do** you think, then?" Eriol stretched across across the window seat observing the proceedings with his usual quiet amusement. He wasn't trying not to be noticed--he merely found such pleasure in simply watching. The former Sakurazukamori looked up from his paper, evaluated Fuji's outfit coolly, then returned to his paper.   
  
"It suits you."   
  
Fuji stared at his image in the mirror, a touch of pride in his eyes.   
  
"Doesn't it _really?"_   
  
The tailor breathed a sigh of relief and went back to work.   
  
"I wonder..."   
  
"Yes, Fuji-san?"   
  
"Could you make something for _him?"_   
  
"Him _who_, Fuji-san?"   
  
"_This_ him."   
  
The tailor looked up and found himself staring into a small yellow ball of fluff sitting in Fuji's hands. He heard Seishirou groan.   
  
"You want a battle costume for your hamster," he said firmly, "you pay for it yourself."   
  
"You're so _cold,_ Seishirou-san," Fuji pouted.   
  
"Well, there _is_ such a thing as a budget..."   
  
"So says the man who charges his _Shotacon Surprise_ subscription to it..."   
  
".........would you like to know firsthand why the sakura are pink, Shuusuke-kun?"   
  
"So sorry to trouble you, Eriol-kun, but you may have to bring Seishirou-san back from the dead again shortly."   
  
"Now now, you two..." Eriol laughed, not sounding as if he actually wanted them to stop.   
  
_Thud_ went the paper as it struck the coffee table. A tennis ball panged against the floor.   
  
"I should stop taking these jobs..." whimpered the tailor.   
  
Mr. Cheeky squeaked sympathetically.  
  
********   
  
Subaru twitched, as he was becoming more and more prone to do in the presence of Shindou Hikaru (it was like an allergic reaction, really). At the moment, the boy was staring at him as if he were waiting for a message from God. And maybe for Shindou, that was pretty close to what this was. But that didn't change the fact that most of the time, Subaru did not like being stared at, and he certainly didn't care for being gawked at by a sixteen-year-old nitwit while he was trying to properly center himself. It was most distracting.   
  
For quite some time now, Subaru had been weighing the relative advantages and disadvantages to being officially disowned by the Sumeragi clan , as well as the numerous other consequences he might bring on himself were Hikaru to have a tragic and bloody--oh yes, very, _very_ bloody--accident...   
  
"...well?" Hikaru asked. This was perhaps the twelfth time Hikaru had "Well?"'d since Subaru had started trying to contact Sai.   
  
Subaru cracked open one menacing and slightly bloodshot green eye and glared at Hikaru, who was obnoxiously unimpressed and unthreatened. "If it were as easy to do this as you seem to _think_ it is I wouldn't be able to make a living at it, now would I?"   
  
Hikaru looked thoughtful as he leaned back on his arms and stared at the ceiling of Subaru's apartment, a whined "How much looooonnnnggggger?" apparent in his every gesture. Obviously, onmyoujitsu didn't inspire the same amount of respect it used to.   
  
They had been at it for about an hour now. Usually, fifteen minutes in the company of the little bleached Go-brat was enough to exhaust Subaru's patience. Right now, the only thing that was keeping the onmyouji sane was imagining various ways he could inflict pain upon Hikaru once the business connections between them were severed. Good old-fashioned Chinese water-torture was looking _very_ attractive...   
  
"What's wrong? Is he mad at me or something?" Hikaru asked, tracing a spiral on the floor.   
  
"First." Subaru snorted. "It's exceedingly difficult to contact a spirit once they've moved on. It disrupts the natural balance of things, and normally, onmyoujis are supposed to _uphold_ and _restore_ that balance."   
  
"Oh. Does that mean you're not supposed to do it?"   
  
_...my God he's absolutely brilliant._ "Yes," Subaru answered dryly.   
  
"Then why are you doing it?"   
  
Subaru momentarily entertained a vision of stoning Shindou to death with Go pieces, then shook his head.   
  
"I made a deal with you, didn't I?"   
  
Hikaru frowned. "Yeah, but... disturbing the natural balance sounds kinda dangerous--"   
  
"Oh, well, if you feel that way, we can stop right now..."   
  
"N-no! Well ... I mean ... uh ... what's the second thing?"   
  
Subaru allowed himself another quick peak at Hikaru and a smile. "A spirit lasting over a thousand years on this plane is, to my knowledge, completely unprecedented. Now that he's finally moved on, it will be nearly impossible to communicate with him."   
  
"Geez ... and before I had trouble getting him to shut up."   
  
"Speaking of which..." Subaru drawled.   
  
"Huh?" Hikaru's head popped up, his expression momentarily both surprised and confused. "Speaking of wha-- Oh! .... Right ... sorry. I'll shut up now."   
  
And so the Sumeragi found fifteen minutes of complete, blissful silence which he cherished and savored beyond what words can express.   
  
Until a ring tone rendition of "The Hamster Dance" went off.   
  
"Oh! That's my cellphone!" Hikaru laughed, pulling it out of his pocket. "Hello? .... Oh, hi, Waya! What's .... eh? .... eh? .... EH?!? Right _now?_ Well, it's just I'm busy right now..."   
  
Subaru twitched again. Yes, he could see it all clearly. He'd start by ripping out that annoying blonde hair strand by strand, then he'd carve little patterns into Hikaru's skin with a spoon, and then hot irons and the rack....   
  
And then he'd start in with the really _good_ stuff...   
  
"I've already got _plans_ for today, Waya! Yeah, I know it's an important--what? _Touya?_ Well..."   
  
After determining the exact order of events in Hikaru's gruesome and increasingly imminent murder and all the elaborate details thereof, Subaru gave up on trying to contact the spiritual plane and settled for just watching Shindou Hikaru sit on the phone and gossip like a preteen schoolgirl. He had no idea what he and this 'Waya'-- the red haired boy, Subaru recalled-- were talking about specifically, but he understood that it concerned his previous client, Touya Akira.   
  
And from the little conflicted look on Hikaru's face, whatever that was seemed to bother Shindou a great deal...   
  
"He didn't say that! No... _no!_ Wooow!... well, no, I don't really think that was _unforgivable--"_   
  
The backlash from the other end was so fierce Hikaru flinched and held his cellphone out at arm's length away from his ear. This was pathetic--even Subaru had figured out defending Touya Akira in front of Waya was a bad idea, and the only contact he had had with the boy was through shikigami.   
  
Subaru stood and casually walked into his kitchen for a glass of water. He took only one small sip before he walked back into his living room and dumped the rest on Hikaru's head. As the Go brat sat and sputtered, the onmyouji removed the cellphone from Hikaru's hand, turned it off, and chucked it over his shoulder. If it had flown out the window it wouldn't have bothered him in the least.   
  
Hikaru turned, uncharacteristically furious.   
  
"What'd you do that for?"   
  
Subaru for his part was pretty amused by the scene. Shindou looked like a soggy puppy dog bearing its baby fangs.   
  
"The water or taking away your phone?"   
  
"The both!"   
  
"You were getting too excited over your boyfriend. You needed to cool down."   
  
"He's not my boyfriend, he's my rival!"   
  
"Eh, same difference."  
  
********   
  
"No smoking, no drinking, no packages larger than two feet by four--"   
  
"Eh?"   
  
"We want to make sure no one mails themselves here. If you receive a package larger than that, you'll have to pick it up at the post office and open it here in front of us." Kamui turned back to his clipboard and the never-ending list of rules and regulations.   
  
"Curfew is at 10 PM, no exceptions, wards outside of the compound for business other then school, work, or approved personal matters should have a buddy with them at all times, absolutely no guests or outsiders unless they're cleared with me or Kakyou personally..."   
  
"Kakyou ....san?" Akira asked.   
  
For some time now Akira had been trailing Kamui down the long, intimidating hallways of AID HQ. Their destination, if they had a destination at all, was impossible for Akira to predict. Perhaps Kamui had only meant to give himself something to do while he rattled off a long list of rules. The man did seem a little high strung and prone to fidgeting, and the rules he had to cover stretched on and on and on, covering all kinds of subjects. Obviously wards of AID were going to be kept under strict rules since, as Kamui had explained, AID had limited resources and some of their charges had families that were dangerous as well as incestuous. But the _degree_ of danger Kamui believed his charges might be in Akira had a really hard time buying. In fact, he thought Kamui was being kind of paranoid about it. A threatening parent may attempt to abduct their child under these circumstances, but who was going to try to FedEx themselves into AID headquarters?   
  
The older man stopped and pivoted slightly on his heel so that he came to face Akira.   
  
"Kakyou handles the AID wards, you'll meet him later. He's ... indisposed right now." From the way he gritted his teeth at the word 'indisposed', it was clear to Akira that what had taken Kakyou-san away from his AID duties was neither pleasant nor planned.   
  
"Oh ... I'm sorry."   
  
"Don't be," Kamui waved it off and turned back to his clipboard filled with notes dismissively. "Kakyou has a way of bouncing back from these things."   
  
Kamui snapped back to his lecture on the finer points of AID ward conduct without missing a beat, leaving Akira standing dumbly in the hallway. It would not be the last time that day that he wondered why he had agreed to take part in this insanity, but now that he had, Akira had to find a way to adjust to a boss that was more than a little off-kilter. He had no choice but to quickly catch up with Kamui and the dark, hidden world of incest.   
  
"....the wards have daily chores to be completed, similar to what you do in school. There's a chart in the common room with everyone's name and responsibilities for that week on it ... obviously, you won't be on the list until Monday, meaning you'll have a free weekend. Enjoy it while you can, but of course if you want to help out anyway I'm sure you'll make a lot of friends in the other wards."   
  
"Excuse me, Kamui-san, but ... what kind of chores?"   
  
Kamui blinked and looked down at him curiously. "Cleaning, cooking, general laundry ... that sort of thing. We hire people to look after the general maintenance of our facilities so we don't have to worry about fixing things or hard labor, but we do room and board wards here for free, after all. It's a fair exchange, don't you think? Plus, it helps teach responsibility."   
  
Akira swallowed the hard lump in his throat. He wasn't against doing his fair share of chores really, it was just ... well, he hadn't grown up in a very normal house. He had never cooked a single meal in his life--that was always his mother's job.   
  
Kamui had seen enough transitional angst to read Akira's expression perfectly. He smiled.   
  
"Don't worry about it. People are good at some things and bad at others. You'll learn. And what you don't know how to do now you might end being up really good at. So don't sweat it."   
  
"I..."   
  
In a flash, Kamui was back to mumbling out all his crazy rules, as if he was hurrying to get through them all in time for something really important. While Akira had supposed that Kamui was a busy man, there seemed to be a particular significance to his speed this time. Unfortunately, he could only sit and wait for the situation to unfold and hope he wasn't about to be sacrificed to some horned pagan god or something.   
  
"Wards are assigned an advisor who they will learn a particular skill-- or several useful skills, depending-- from. A skill that will match their personal needs." Kamui taped his pen thoughtfully on his lip. "We don't have anyone who can play Go here ... and from what I gather you're pretty much the top of the Go world anyway. I don't suppose making a better player out of you would do anything to ward off Ogata-sensei, will it?"   
  
Akira shook his head.   
  
"Didn't figure ... hmmmmm ... well then, how about martial arts?"   
  
Wide, almost shocked, green eyes stared back at him disbelievingly.   
  
"You mean like actual _fighting?"_ Akira asked.   
  
"Yeah. From what you've said Go is pretty much a war game, isn't it? I think you might find some physical training agrees with your personality."   
  
"I ... I couldn't. That is to say--"   
  
"Well, you definitely need to get in better shape. Talented though you are, it always takes at least a little physical force to set a plan in motion. Judging from your grades and achievements, I'm sure you'll excel in anything we teach you ... Still, I can't help seeing a flaw here and wanting to fix that instead of simply giving you things you'd be good at."   
  
"Well..." Akira had to smack himself for his hesitation. What did he think they were going to teach him to help him handle Ogata-sensei, better table manners? The man was taller, bigger, and stronger than him to begin with, and if Akira wanted to end the shadows of his past, he was going to have to be able to trust his own abilities.   
  
"If you think that's best," he said finally.   
  
"Great. Unfortunately, we won't be able to start you on that for a few weeks. But that's okay--it gives you time to get settled here. You'll need to give us your game schedule as soon as you can so that we can plan training session at times that won't interfere. We expect our wards to uphold their normal responsibilities in addition to their training. For most of them that means maintaining their grades in school or else facing suspension--which is not fun by the way. I wouldn't test it if I were you. Hmm....I don't know what we're going to do about you, though, since you don't go to school anymore." Kamui laughed. "I suppose we could monitor your win/loss ratio, but that seems a bit unreasonable."   
  
It was slowly becoming clear to Akira that Kamui handled the wards here so strictly because he thought of them as if they were his own children. Perhaps this paternal edge was a way to deal with the pain and sense of loss he must have felt having to give up his own son to protect him. It was touching, really. Akira couldn't help but respect the standards of this program Kamui had managed to put together, even though he found it all just _a little_ crazy.   
  
"Ehh, I'm sure you won't give us any reason to worry about you," Kamui concluded. "Oh, and in addition to training, you all have class together on Sundays."   
  
Akira was jarred out of his thoughts. "Class?"   
  
"Yeah. We find cases of incest tend to run in cycles--parent abuses the child, child grows up and takes advantage of own children, that sort of thing."   
  
Akira paled.   
  
"So then ... the classes are about..."   
  
"Well, they're about a great many things, actually. Preventing incest is just the desired result."   
  
"Umm....do I _have_ to take those classes? Since I'm not technically an incest case?"   
  
"Couldn't hurt," Kamui said with a wink. "After all, if we don't do anything about it now, you might go on to molest little Go boys yourself when you're older. Now let's go meet your roommate. It's about the time he gets home."   
  
Akira picked himself up off the floor.   
  
"Roommate?"   
  
Kamui opened a door to a moderately sized dorm room. One side was decorated with various sports posters and personal affects, and the other was completely empty. There seemed to be an actual line dividing the room in half as if each side of the room was untouchable terrain for the other person. Akira peeked his head in cautiously at first, then took a few tentative steps inside. The sight of this room filled him with a mix of fear and excitement all at once. Here was the blessed freedom of the unknown waiting for him. This was where he would live as he acquired the new skills he'd use to shape the course of his life. Maybe he'd even learn to cook.   
  
"Meow."   
  
Akira looked down. Sitting at his feet was what he thought at first was a small white raccoon, but it was clearly too well groomed and domesticated to be so. The notRaccoon, for its part, seemed no less confused by the unfamiliar face. It stared back at Akira, mewed again, and then started clawing gently at the boy's jeans.   
  
"Ah ... this must be the cat," Akira mumbled to himself, leaning down to scoop the furball off the floor. It was an adorable and friendly little creature and took to Akira immediately, coaxing little affectionate pets out of him easily. Akira had never been much of an animal person, never having had a pet of his own--not even a fish-- and he found himself wondering whether life with a cat would be an unexpected pleasure or a nightmare.   
  
Kamui suddenly reappeared in the doorway. "Oh. I see you've meet Karupin."   
  
"Karupin, huh?"   
  
"Yeah." Kamui's attention was obviously not focused on Akira at the moment. His eyes kept drifting up and down the hallway in search of the tardy AID ward. Obviously, he wasn't thrilled about waiting for Akira's roommate to make an appearance, but Akira couldn't tell if it was annoyance or outright worry.   
  
Finally, he turned back into room.   
  
"Cute little thing, isn't he?" Kamui asked, scratching Karupin under the chin.   
  
Akira nodded.   
  
"I'm gonna throttle him."   
  
"Huh?" Akira hugged Karupin closer to his chest protectively. "The cat?"   
  
"What?" Kamui blinked. It seemed he was not aware that he had murmured his last thought out loud. "Oh, no! No, not the cat. The cat I like." He frowned and stared down the hallway with a much harder look in his eyes. "I'm talking about his owner."   
  
"Is he frequently late like this?"   
  
"Only when it's something important."   
  
"Oh .....errr...." Akira decided not to get involved with this anymore than he already was.   
  
So they waited .... and waited .... and waited. Karupin in time got bored and squirmed out of Akira's arms, returning a minute later with his favorite cat toy in his mouth. He sat at Akira's feet, his whiskers twitching cutely as if imploring the teenager to play with him. And Akira was only too happy to oblige, in a large part because Kamui looked ready to kill someone and Akira was worried that might be him if he attempted any small talk.   
  
"Ah, Ryoma," Kamui called out finally. "You're _late_."   
  
The truly frightening thing as far as Akira was concerned was that Kamui's sudden cheerful and unconcerned demeanor was meant to lure the other boy close enough to keep him from escaping. The only thing that kept Akira from diverting Kamui's attention was that _he_ didn't want to be the subject of Kamui's wrath himself.   
  
"Sorry," the boy mumbled, walking past Kamui. Despite the words, he didn't sound especially apologetic at all.   
  
"And where were you? Your club activities should have ended an hour ago."   
  
"I had to get my racket restringed."   
  
"Ohhhh?" Kamui plucked Ryoma's tennis bag off the boy's shoulder easily. "What have you been doing that required you to get it restringed on a _Friday?"_   
  
He unzipped the bag examined the edge of Ryoma's red tennis racket carefully. Akira couldn't tell whether Kamui seriously suspected Ryoma of lying or whether he was simply nagging Ryoma to discourage him from making unscheduled stops.   
  
"Nothing much--I played Taka-san, that's all," Ryoma replied. It seemed that he was used to this sort of inquisition, but was no less annoyed by it for that. His eyes flickered across the room to Akira ... standing there with his cat in his arms. It was a look Akira couldn't read, exactly, but it seemed like the kind of look you gave a guy when you came home and found him holding your wife.   
  
Kamui probably would have been happy to continue debating the racket issue if either of the boys were still paying any attention to him at all. But he could hardly fault Akira and Ryoma for their sudden mutual interest in one another. So while Kamui would have liked to have given Ryoma a detailed lecture on the importance of letting people know what his after school plans were (the tenth such lecture of that semester), he decided to do the polite thing and introduce his charges to one another.   
  
"Ryoma, this is Touya Akira, your new roommate. Akira, this is Echizen Ryoma. He's among our top trainees right now. I thought you two would benefit from each other's experience."   
  
"Ahh..." Akira began. He had to admit, Ryoma was staring quite obviously and it was a bit unnerving. There was something arrogant, aggressive and overtly haughty about just his appearance, even though the boy was probably at least three years younger than Akira himself.   
  
"Nice to meet you," he said finally.   
  
Ryoma shrugged. "Yeah."   
  
Kamui's disapproving frown was hard to miss this time. He even went so far so to punch Ryoma softly on the arm. "You'll be sure to make Akira feel at home here, _won't you?_"   
  
Ryoma gave Akira another hard look. It wasn't quite _hostile_, per se, but there was definitely something inherently displeased about it.   
  
"Sure, whatever."   
  
Before Kamui could goad him into something more polite Ryoma was already out the door and walking down the hall. Certainly Kamui could have caught up to him, but he seemed to expect such a reaction from Ryoma and made no attempt to stop the boy from blowing Akira off. Kamui sighed and leaned up against the door frame, giving Akira an openly apologetic look.   
  
"This would be the other problem you wanted my help with, wouldn't it?" Akira asked.   
  
Kamui smiled. "Clever of you to see that. He's been through five roommates so far."   
  
"Can't say I don't see why," Akira replied testily.   
  
"Oh, don't be so quick to judge. Ryoma is a sweet kid, he's just .... very standoffish. Particularly with strangers. I thought you'd be a good match for him, since you're obviously a young man of some patience, and I know you won't be intimidated easily."   
  
"What am I supposed to do about him?"   
  
"Nothing. We aim to improve the character of the kids here, not 'fix' them necessarily, but I think the best way to prevent any social problem is companionship. Anyway, I think it might do you _both_ a world of good ... you don't exactly strike me as the social butterfly type yourself."  
  
*************   
  
With introductions out of the way, Kamui left Akira to check out his new digs, then walked back to his office, locked the door, sat down at his desk and died. Well, almost died. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically. It'd been a long couple of days. First Kakyou had gotten himself in another coma (_ooh, the idiot!_), then Kamui had found out his son was looking for him, then he had to come up with some means of protecting the boy from Subaru, and then there was actually meeting Isumi and trying to warn him of the danger and getting Akira settled in and ugh it was just too much all at once. Kamui felt drained.   
  
And of course, it was at a time like this that he had to start _remembering..._   
  
In the year 1999, Tokyo underwent some rather dramatic urban renewal, including the leveling of many historic buildings, the rerouting of major transportation routes (often in the middle of rush hour), and the flooding of over twenty city blocks. Thousands died and thousands more were left homeless and financially ruined.   
  
The funny thing, though, was that it could have been worse-- this was _supposed_ to be The Apocalypse, after all. There should have been more destruction, more death, more glorious Christian symbolism and gears and feathers and such, but it all went awry thanks to one Wish granter's rather inappropriate sense of humor.   
  
Sure, Monou Fuuma wasn't like other teenagers his age. He possessed a level of maturity and insight that most people would never possess themselves, and yeah, there was that power of God thing, too. But that didn't mean he was completely infallible, as Sakurazuka Seishirou found out over a bottle of Cutty Sark scotch. Leave it to Seishirou to fuck up the Apocalypse for everyone.   
  
"Let's find somebody with a Wish," Fuuma hiccuped.   
  
"No."   
  
"Why nooooooooooooooot?"   
  
"Because you're _drunk,_" Seishirou replied dryly.   
  
"Ffh! I grant Wisses--Wihehs--_Thingies_ better when I've had a few!"   
  
Fuuma started giggling and fell heavily into Seishirou's shoulder, nearly knocking them both down. This break from the usual "Mr. Complete Control of Everything" routine would have amused Seishirou greatly if not for the sneaking suspicion that sooner or later Fuuma was going to throw up on him.   
  
"First," Seishirou grumbled, trying to right himself, "I doubt you have any reliable experience to back up that conclusion."   
  
To this, Fuuma made the articulate and very adult response of sticking out his tongue.   
  
"And second, it would take an act of God for us to find someone who could actually understand you enough in this state to make out your cryptic fatalistic _babble_ and realize that you're really granting their 'Wish' before you do something horrible to them."   
  
"Kamui! We could use Kamui!"   
  
"Well, yes, I agree, Kamui is always delightful to torment even though he's a nitwit. But Kamui's not here, so--"   
  
"Yes he _is,_" Fuuma drawled, pointing to a familiar figure standing on the street corner just a few feet beyond them.   
  
"Well, damn...." Seishirou murmured.   
  
And before he could stop him, Fuuma screamed, "Yoo-hoo!!! Kamui-_chan!_" and started waving enthusiastically.   
  
Kamui looked around, confused, before he spotted his two tormentors and cringed.   
  
"I don't think he's happy to see us, Fuuma-kun. Let's wait till tomorrow--you'll enjoy this more sober--"   
  
"Nonsense!" Fuuma scoffed, dragging an unwilling Seishirou with him toward the bemused Kamui. "Hey Kamui, isn't it past your bedtime?"   
  
The little Messiah studied them both carefully, and for a moment, the look in Kamui's eyes suggested that what he really wanted was to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. But he would never forgive himself if he turned and ran like a coward, even if he was horribly outmatched and outnumbered.   
  
The Sakurazukamori, meanwhile, looked like he was going to laugh right in Kamui's face.   
  
"I wouldn't be too worried. Frankly, I'd be surprised if he could walk five feet on his own in this state, let alone tie you to a pole and rape you of your self-respect. Among other things."   
  
Seishirou shifted Fuuma from his arm to demonstrate. Fuuma stumbled a little, then rested himself heavily against the wall next to him, grinning stupidly at Kamui.   
  
For his part, Kamui twitched. Then he stood up straighter and turned up his nose a little bit at the drunk teenager, trying to hide the brief flicker of relief in his features.   
  
"What do you want Fuuma?" he asked defiantly.   
  
"I'm going to grant your Wish!" Fuuma announced, looking infinitely proud of himself for the simple statement. Seishirou rolled his eyes and Kamui twitched again.   
  
"I'm not interested," Kamui sneered, turning and walking away. He got a few yards before Fuuma made one of those fabulous "I've got random psychic powers so of course I can _fly_" leaps and landed directly in front of Kamui. With the swishy trench coat and all it would've looked incredibly smooth if not for the fact that Fuuma immediately fell flat on his face.   
  
"What the hell did you do to him?" Kamui asked as Seishirou joined him. The assassin just shrugged.   
  
Suddenly Fuuma stood up, teetered backward, then grabbed Kamui to catch his balance. He practically leaned on the smaller boy to keep his balance. Kamui's expression was somewhere between terrified and disgusted. Illogically he looked to Seishirou for help.   
  
Seishirou shook his head and reached compulsively for his cigarettes. It looked like they were going to be here for a while.   
  
"So .... Kamui....what is your Wish?" Fuuma asked.   
  
Kamui scowled. "Aren't _you_ supposed to tell _me_ that?"   
  
"Oops! 'at's right. I knew that ... really I did. Okay, okay ... let me see ... now don't tell me, I know this one..."   
  
Fuuma continued mumbling to himself for a good ten minutes, during which time he pushed Kamui into a wall and slobbered clumsily all over him. Seishirou amused himself by debating which one of them was going to get sick first--the drunken Fuuma or the revolted Kamui.   
  
"I wanted to save you," Kamui said finally.   
  
"Nonono ... that's not it," Fuuma replied, shaking his head. "Something else..."   
  
"So you keep saying. Maybe you should go home and think about it." Kamui looked desperately to Seishirou again, which probably wasn't smart, but he didn't have many options here. Fuuma was at least forty pounds heavier than him and five inches taller. If it came down to letting himself be molested by one of them or the other, Kamui suspected he was slightly less likely to end up dead at the end of it if it was the Sakurazukamori rather than Fuuma.   
  
"Wait wait, I got it!" Fuuma declared. "You want things back the way the way they were before. Back when Mommy was alive...awwww, Kamui misses his family, how cuuuute..."   
  
That hit a nerve. Kamui gritted his teeth and tried to remain patient.   
  
"Well, I can't _have_ my family back when you killed Kotori, now _can I_?" Before Fuuma could consider the logistics of bringing everyone relevant back from the dead as rotting flesh-eating zombies (the only way of granting Kamui's Wish that seemed appropriately traumatic), Kamui interrupted, saying, "So I have to settle for saving you instead."   
  
Fuuma stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry in Kamui's face, then went back to thinking.   
  
"Kamui wants a family..." he mumbled. "Wants a..."   
  
The grin that spread across Fuuma's features wasn't demonic--it was just horrifically overjoyed. Still, Kamui would've been hard-pressed to find the difference between the two.   
  
"The only way Kamui will have a family again," Fuuma declared, "is if someone knocks him up!"   
  
"Eh?" Kamui asked.   
  
Fuuma thought this was hysterical--he broke out into giggles again, prodding Kamui roughly in the belly as he did.   
  
"That's it! That's it! Ooooh, this's so good! Here..."   
  
He immediately straightened himself up and wiggled his fingers in front of Kamui's face, declaring at once that Kamui was officially "fertile".   
  
"Now go get 'em, tiger!" he laughed, slapping Kamui on the back.   
  
An unnatural breeze riffled through Kamui's hair as the air around him started pulsing bright green. It had nothing to do with Fuuma's strange magic, though--it was Kamui's own power flaring up. The boy was _furious._ He had no idea what the hell Fuuma was talking about or what he'd done (if anything), but he'd gone too far this time. Pathetic or not, Kamui was still the Messiah, and he was about to make Fuuma appreciate that fact.   
  
Although it would have suited Seishirou just fine to let Kamui rip Fuuma apart for once (he might even have enjoyed the show), as a Dragon of Earth he was technically supposed to protect Fuuma until the Promised Day. Not that Fuuma usually needed any protecting really, especially not from Kamui, but in this situation things were a little iffy, and it would probably be considered a breach of his duties if Seishirou didn't step in.   
  
His moment's hesitation was to his great benefit though, as Fuuma's body decided it'd finally had enough of all that liquor and he got sick.   
  
On Kamui.   
  
"Well, now, would you look at that!" Seishirou chuckled. "He managed to rape you of your self-respect after all! I'm impressed."   
  
Regardless of the boy's stated Wish, Seishirou expected Kamui to just vaporize Fuuma right there and then. But it seemed no one had ever throw up on Kamui when he was about to kill them before, and he wasn't sure how to react. The boy just stood there, quiet and stunned, violet eyes empty as the bottle back in Seishirou's apartment. Dirty, upset and visibly defeated with absolutely no idea how to handle this, he finally settled on shoving Fuuma off of him roughly and storming off in the other direction.   
  
"Invite me to the shower, Kamuiiiiiiiii!" Fuuma called after him.   
  
The next morning, Seishirou found Fuuma lying under Beast, reeking, disheveled, and quite obviously suffering from a hangover. Between the previous evening and this, Seishirou was afraid he'd never be able to take the Antichrist seriously ever again.   
  
"Ugh ...." Two dreary gold eyes opened reluctantly and looked up at the Sakurazukamori. "What happened?"   
  
"You got drunk."   
  
Fuuma bit his lip and tried really hard to remember the events of the night before.   
  
"Did I do anything stupid?"   
  
"......you wouldn't believe me if I told you." 


	9. Suck Our Flashback Fudomine

Kamui screamed.   
  
Later, when he had time to reflect on it, he felt a little silly. Yes, something blew up, lights flashed, and people were leaping out at him from all kinds of strange places and shouting, but really, he should've been _used_ to that kind of thing by now. He was the savior of mankind in the final battle for the fate of humanity and the planet, after all, and in that line of work, explosions and whatnot were pretty de rigeur.   
  
On the other hand, given the circumstances, a boy could be forgiven for acting a little out of sorts.   
  
Another flash went off in his face as Yuzuriha snapped a photo of the still-bewildered Kamui. She looped her arms around his neck and gave him a light peck on the cheek.   
  
"Hee! Were you surprised, Kamui-san?"   
  
"Um," he replied, maintaining his death-grip on Sorata's arm as he looked at the banner overhead, which read   


Congratulations! It _*IS*_ a Baby!

  
  
  
The exploded party ball showered the last of its glitter and confetti down on the Seals as they gathered around Kamui and Sorata at the doorway of Nokoru's office.   
  
"Kamui, we thought you might enjoy a, you know, a baby shower," offered Sorata, smiling encouragingly. "Now, um, would you please let go of my arm a little? I can't feel my fingers anymore."   
  
"We were all so relieved when we learned that you were having a normal, human baby," Karen added. "We thought a little party might help you enjoy this..._special_ time."   
  
"It's too bad he's not giving birth to a sword," Arashi muttered.   
  
"What did you say, babe?" Sorata asked, walking Kamui toward a large, high-backed chair in the middle of the room.   
  
"I said, we're all so glad Kamui's not giving birth to a sword," she answered back, a tad overly sweet. Arashi turned quickly to hide the embarrassed blush spreading across her face.   
  
"Oh, yes," Suoh agreed. "Rijichou was extremely concerned about that possibility. Everyone was so relieved when we heard about the sonogram results."   
  
At that, Nokoru, brandishing his fan like a battle flag, launched into a lengthy speech about how this new life represented hope for the future, renewal, second chances, and so on and so forth. Around the ten-minute mark, Suoh leaned down and whispered into Kamui's ear that, had it been up to Rijichou, this would have been a whole campus affair.   
  
"Be grateful," the secretary concluded, patting Kamui gently on the shoulder.   
  
Kamui glared at the smiling expectant faces surrounding him. Grateful? Didn't anybody understand that he was not at all _amused_ about being pregnant? The situation was embarrassing enough in the first place, but what he really hated were the mood swings, the morning sickness, the puffy ankles and ESPECIALLY the--   
  
"Are those presents all for _me?"_ Kamui asked, again overwhelmed, as he pointed to a modest mountain of brightly-wrapped boxes in a corner of the room. He'd never seen so many presents for one person, let alone received as much.   
  
"Yup!" Sorata replied cheerfully.   
  
"Really?"   
  
"Uh huh!"   
  
"I can have them?"   
  
"Yeah!"   
  
"All of them?"   
  
"You betcha!"   
  
_And here it comes_, Sorata thought calmly, reaching into his pocket.   
  
"Y--you guys really _do_ love me!" Kamui cried, sounding genuinely touched. "I -I-I..." He blew his nose loudly into the handkerchief that suddenly appeared next to him in Sorata's outstretched hand.   
  
"Smile, Kamui-san!" laughed Yuzuriha, snapping a picture as Ijyuin Akira wheeled a pile of boxes over to where Kamui was sitting.   
  
Once the waterworks subsided, Kamui did smile, and so did Sorata, who also mentally breathed a quiet, relieved sigh. Having spent the most time around the pregnant Messiah, he was all too familiar with Kamui's frequent, tempestuous mood swings, and wasn't at all surprised that Kamui had gone from vaporize everyone in the room mode to tears of joy in the space of about two seconds.   
  
It was good to see him enjoying himself, though. When the others had first mentioned the idea of a baby shower, Sorata had been a little nervous, as Kamui had been markedly more volatile as of late (the large charred holes in the Imonoyama mansion bore witness to the fact). But everyone seemed so earnest about wanting Kamui to have some happy memories of this..._special_ time that Sorata had quickly agreed. Still, it meant keeping a closer eye than usual on Kamui's moods to make sure sure there were no disasters today.   
  
_When Grandpa Stargazer said I was supposed to protect Kamui,_ the young monk thought to himself, _I didn't realize so much of it would be protecting other people from his hormones._   
  
An enormous present WHUNKED down in front of Kamui. Suoh stepped out from behind, panting.   
  
"Who gave Kamui-san _this_ one?"   
  
"Oh! That was me," Ijyuin Akira laughed nervously. "Utako-san insisted it was the best possible gift for a new moth--_parent._"   
  
Kamui practically glowed with anticipation as he stared at the many gifts surrounding him.   
  
"Why don't you open this silver one first?" Sorata suggested helpfully.   
  
Kamui perked up and started joyfully ripping paper from a large box. Yuzuriha took a few more pictures of the now overjoyed Kamui, while Aoki went towards the refreshment table and grabbed a paper plate.   
  
"My wife says there's a tradition of putting all the ribbons from the shower gifts onto a paper plate and making a hat for the new moth--_parent_." He placed the now somewhat tattered bow onto the plate, then gave it a critical glance. "Maybe you should let Sorata-san take off the ribbons first...."   
  
"And you might want to open the cards as well, Kamui," Karen added with a wink. "So you'll know who to thank."   
  
Kamui, oblivious, studied the unwrapped box in his lap.   
  
"What in the world is a 'Diaper Genie'?" he demanded.   
  
"That's from me," Aoki laughed, slightly embarrassed that Kamui wasn't enthused with his present. "It's an extremely useful gift."   
  
"But what's it _for?_" Kamui asked, shaking the box.   
  
"You put the baby's diapers in it and it, uhhh..." Aoki made waving motions with his hands.   
  
"And?"   
  
"I'll give you a hand with it later, Kamui," soothed Sorata. "Why don't you open this one next?"   
  
This time, Kamui carefully removed the bright purple ribbon first, passing it to Aoki to add to his hat (_Ahh, he's getting into it!_ Sorata thought to himself, pleased). Kamui then removed the card. This one was from Yuzuriha, and fortunately, it was a gift Kamui would have a much easier time appreciating.   
  
"Ohhhhhhhh! It's my own ice cream maker!"   
  
Yuzuriha smiled and tried to take another picture of the now jubilant Kamui, who jumped (as best he could in his condition) out of his seat and hugged her.   
  
"It's _perfect!_ Thank you thank you thank you! But how'd you ever think of it?"   
  
"Because you've been eating all of _our_ ice cream," Arashi grumbled.   
  
Kamui narrowed his eyes and glared at Arashi coldly. An unnatural breeze parted his bangs and set the banner waving overhead.   
  
"Hey, Kamui, I bet with this, we could make that flavor you talked about earlier!" Sorata exclaimed, hoping to distract Kamui before the boy did something he might regret later on. He turned towards Arashi and shot her a look, hurt that she was being so insensitive. Didn't she have any sense of loyalty to their Kamui? Or at least sympathy, given his...condition.   
  
"Ohhhh, you're _right!_" burbled Kamui happily. "I still don't see why no one else has thought of making Nutella-pickle-chocolate chip cookie dough-wasabi-fudge before..."   
  
"It's a mystery," smiled Sorata affectionately.   
  
Across the room, Arashi glared.   
  
"Here, try this one; the card says it's from Karen."   
  
Kamui opened the box carefully and once again found himself staring confused at the gift in his lap.   
  
"Just because you're having a baby doesn't mean you shouldn't _enjoy_ yourself, Kamui," teased Karen. "And just think--now that you're expecting, you don't have to worry about getting pregnant."   
  
"I shouldn't have had to worry about that in the first place," Kamui grumbled, fumbling with the assorted bath products and copy of _The Joy of Sex_ in his lap.   
  
"Don't worry--I'm sure you can find _someone_ who would be only too happy to help you make use of these." Karen winked as she squeezed Sorata's shoulder.   
  
Sorata coughed and turned his head, trying to hide his blush (thereby missing the daggers Arashi was staring at both Kamui and Karen), and passed Kamui an envelope. It opened to reveal a voucher for Kamui's future offspring to attend Clamp Campus for free. Kamui gave Nokoru a confused smile, and opened the next present, from Suoh, which proved to contain an Exo-Saucer.   
  
"It's because those walkers are _dangerous_," explained Suoh with a scowl. "This will allow your baby to exercise without forcing you to chase after them, or forcing _me_ to chase after them. Every time we babysit Licca-chan, Rijichou puts her in the walker and _I_ spend half the day trying to catch her..."   
  
Sorata quickly started helping Kamui open Ijyuin Akira's gigantic present in an attempt to prevent an argument between Nokoru and a beleaguered Suoh. It worked--mostly--and soon, everyone was staring at what came out of the package. It looked a little like a rocking chair, but moved differently and had a small cushioned ottoman which also moved back and forth.   
  
"Utako-san told me gliders were much better than ordinary rocking chairs, and insisted I get one for Kamui-san," explained Akira with his usual helpful smile. "She uses hers whenever she feeds Licca-chan. Give it a try!"   
  
With Sorata's help, Kamui did so, and was immediately entranced by the chair's gliding action. Heaven, he decided, was like this, complete with an ottoman. Kamui nearly nodded off right then and there, a blissful smile on his lips. Sorata took advantage of the momentary calm to gather the last two presents off the trolley. There were only two left--Sorata's own, which he was planning to save for last, and one from Arashi.   
  
Now, here was a problem: as observant as Sorata had been when it came to monitoring Kamui's moods, he had of late been completely clueless when it came to Arashi's. Consequently, her mild irritation at Sorata, the guy who said he loved her and was going to die for her, devoting all his time and energy to taking care of Kamui had been allowed to grow unchecked into full-blown jealousy and finally seething hatred of the person who had replaced her in his eyes.   
  
And she knew only too well how to push Kamui's buttons.   
  
"What is this?" Kamui asked quietly.   
  
"Oh? Isn't it right there on the side of the box?" Arashi asked sweetly.   
  
"Yes. It says 'breast pump'."   
  
"Well, then, there you go. That's what it is."   
  
Kamui's eyes started to glow.   
  
"B-babe!" Sorata laughed anxiously, stepping between them. "Why'd you get Kamui something like that?"   
  
Arashi blinked in mock-surprise.   
  
"I thought it might come in handy when Kamui just doesn't have time to nurse her baby."   
  
"Ha ha! You mean 'his'!"   
  
"Ooops. My _mistake._"   
  
"Anyway, Kamui _can't_ nurse the baby--he doesn't have--you know, thingies!"   
  
"Are you _sure?_" A smirk curled Arashi's lips. "Maybe you should check--you never know with her."   
  
"Him."   
  
"Whatever you say."   
  
It was, Sorata reflected, the first time he'd seen Kamui manifest an energy dragon of his own, and it was a pretty impressive sight. Still, it would be real downer if this celebration of new life ended with Arashi a smoking stain on the carpet--or possibly Sorata as one, although, true love or not, he wasn't hot on dying for the girl if she was just going to _ask_ for it like this.   
  
"Hey Kamui, wouldja look at all these petit fours over here! I wonder what flavors they are?"   
  
Kamui wouldn't budge, so Sorata ended up having to pop a pastry in Kamui's mouth before he could distract the young Messiah over to the refreshment table. It worked, though--soon Kamui had forgotten all about Arashi and was busy shoveling treats into his mouth. A small pile of foils appeared by his side, and it probably would have continued to grow until it was as tall as he was had Arashi not opened her mouth.   
  
"If you keep eating sweet stuff like that, Kamui..." she cooed snidely.   
  
Kamui paused in mid-bite.   
  
"...then you'll never get back your _girlish_ figure."   
  
And suddenly there was nothing left of the shrine maiden of Ise but a pile of black ash on the floor.   
  
"Sorata, would you get me a CC Lemon?" Kamui asked, smiling cutely.   
  
"S...sure," Sorata murmured, still staring at the spot where Arashi had been.   
  
The rest of the room gawked in disbelief.   
  
"D--did he just--" Aoki whispered.   
  
"I think he did," Karen gulped.   
  
Yuzuriha took a picture.   
  
"These are really good!" Kamui chuckled, swallowing a mini-eclair.   
  
  
Yes, Kamui hadn't always loved his teenage years, but there _were_ certain moments he still took pleasure in remembering. He regretted all the trouble he caused for himself and his baby by frying Arashi at that party, but oddly, he never regretted the frying itself. He just wished he had done it in a better way--a more colorful explosion, maybe...   
  
Well, one couldn't really change the past anymore than one could control the future. If anyone had taught him that--   
  
"What are you up to, Kamui?"   
  
--it was the man who's company he kept now.   
  
Kamui stood at the door of Kakyou's private hospital room, a bundle of flowers in his arms. The dreamgazer's suspicion was understandable--any man who had such a deliberately innocent expression as that of the former Messiah _had_ to be up to something.   
  
"That's no way to greet a visitor," Kamui remarked as he arranged the flowers carefully in the vase on Kakyou's nightstand. "Although I'm glad to see you're up and so damn chipper."   
  
Kakyou frowned and sucked on the apple juice the nurse had demanded he drink.   
  
"You haven't answered my question."   
  
"Were you watching something?"   
  
Kakyou blinked, grabbed the remote control out of his lap and snapped off the muted television.   
  
"What was that?" Kamui asked.   
  
"Nothing," Kakyou replied, in a tone a more observant person would've recognized as meaning it had indeed been something, probably something important. Kamui, however, merely shrugged and went back to playing with the flowers.   
  
"I'm not going to answer to vague accusations when you're in your paranoid post-coma state." He was smiling and to even his own surprise, actually in a pretty decent mood. He knew, of course, with Subaru on the loose he could lose everything he had worked for in a heartbeat, (and perhaps he was even losing it right now and didn't know it), but at least he wasn't _pregnant,_ and in his book, that was something to smile about.   
  
"I've been out of the coma for days now Kamui, and I still get reports from the office. You do know that."   
  
The AID leader frowned. "I did tell them not to disturb you. But it can't be helped now, I suppose. What did they tell you?"   
  
"You made Touya Akira a ward of AID." Kakyou raised a suspicious eyebrow.   
  
"Yes ... what's wrong with that?"   
  
"No incest."   
  
"Then he'd make a good role model for the other wards, don't you think?"   
  
Kakyou was not amused.   
  
"You're up to something."   
  
Kamui grinned.   
  
"Probably, yes."   
  
"I don't object to you bringing him in, but I doubt all you stand to gain from this situation is someone to keep an eye out for Subaru. To be honest, I resent being left out of the loop."   
  
"Well, the way _you_ talk about it, it's not so much being left out of the loop as it is a conspiracy." Kamui's voice was gentle and teasing, not at all annoyed by Kakyou's irritability--it was, he knew, only natural. Even though Kakyou had woken up shortly after his conversation with Kamui in the Dreamscape, he will still recovering from his injuries at the hands of Borgia, and Kakyou did _not_ like being bedridden.   
  
"If I'm going to be responsible for him, I want to know what you're planning to do with him. Out with it."   
  
"Geez," Kamui sighed. "You make it sound so _maniacal._ I'm just thinking about the future of AID here. With most of our recruits going on reserve status after graduation, there are no strong candidates for leadership available."   
  
"But why _him?_"   
  
"Convenience. Echizen Ryoma is our top ward, and he has all the spirit and talent of a leader, but absolutely no head for strategy or teamwork, right? Touya-kun, on the other hand, is a brilliant strategist who inspires confidence in other people but lacks the guts to see his plans through once he's off the Go board. It's not a bad match. I'm hoping they'll rub off on one another. And if we're lucky, we won't just get one future AID leader out of it--we'll get _two_."   
  
Kamui brushed his lips over Kakyou's.   
  
"Then you and I can retire somewhere nice and quiet and a thousand miles from any goddamn kekkais."   
  
Kamui kissed him again, then made room for himself on the bed and began stroking the dreamgazer's hair. It did little to curb Kakyou's irritation, but Kamui was in too good a mood to notice. Assuming Ryoma didn't try to feed Akira to his cat, everything was going to work out just like he'd always hoped. Isumi was now both properly on his guard and old enough to not succumb to Subaru's charms (with Akira in place as a safeguard), and with any luck, by year's end, he'd have two perfect successors to take over AID.   
  
And then Kamui could finally tell the world to fuck off, just like he always wanted to.  
  
********   
  
"Mouuuuu... Jesus, Subaru! I'm all _wet!_" Hikaru whined, trying to brush the water off his clothes and hair.   
  
"There wasn't _that_ much water in the glass," Subaru returned. "And anyway, a shower now and then wouldn't kill you."   
  
Hikaru stormed over to the large fake fur upholstered couch Subaru was lounging on --it was _pink_ fur of all things--and kicked it angrily.   
  
"You always say such mean things to me!"   
  
"I'm a mean person," Subaru murmured distantly. Even if Hikaru was to be struck completely mute for the rest of the afternoon, Subaru wouldn't be able to accomplish anything more on the Sai-front. He was in fact so mentally exhausted that he hardly heard the brat's moaning--each high-pitched, angsty, obnoxious syllable faded away into the blankness of the onmyouji's mind before Subaru could even be annoyed by it.   
  
And so Subaru's thoughts were at liberty to wander through a past long left unvisited, one so far away it was like entering a foreign country...   
  
His senses flickered away from the memory of his sister as Hikaru slid to the floor with a heavy thump. If Subaru reached his hand out just a little, he could run his fingers through that atrocity Hikaru had turned his hair into. And as he pondered that possibility, Subaru found himself thinking about the future for the first time in years. Not his future, really, but the future all the same.   
  
"I miss him..." Hikaru said softly.   
  
Subaru didn't know how to respond to that. There was really nothing he could say that would change anything about the way Hikaru felt, nor could he do the impossible and bring about a reunion. Finally:   
  
"Me too."   
  
Hikaru frowned for a moment before comprehending Subaru's meaning.   
  
"You lost someone, too."   
  
Subaru nodded.   
  
"Several people, but I think the last one was the worst."   
  
Hikaru nodded slightly.   
  
"Sai was... he never made me feel like a child," he said thoughtfully. "You know that way adults have of acting around you and speaking to you that makes you to _feel_ how high they are above you? Sai never treated me like that..."   
  
"But?" Subaru's voice was so soft and patient that the man barely recognized it as his own.   
  
"But...he held me."   
  
Hikaru suddenly flushed as if realizing for the first time how suggestive that sounded.   
  
"I mean---uhh--- not anything _perverted_ or anything--I mean ... I could tell his thoughts and my thoughts apart and all, but it was like his thoughts, his spirit were all around me, like a blanket keeping me safe and warm. I didn't realize it until he was gone, but it was like being held."   
  
"And now you feel cold and alone," Subaru finished.   
  
"Yeah. I miss him."   
  
Subaru nodded.   
  
Hikaru rested his head on the edge of one pink fur cushion. A cluster of gold bangs slid across his nose, obscuring his eyes. When he spoke, it was with the voice of someone who already knew the answer to his question, and has, more or less, resigned himself to it.   
  
"Sai's gone for good, isn't he, Subaru?"   
  
The onmyouji's eyes never flickered from the ceiling.   
  
"Probably."   
  
Hikaru nodded.   
  
The boy seemed to be taking it better than Subaru would have imagined. Maybe he wasn't really as fragile as Subaru had assumed. Still, he'd been just a child when he bonded with this spirit Sai; losing him was probably akin to losing a parent, at least in some ways. But even though exhaustion had sedated him into a more sympathetic frame of mind than he normally allowed himself, Subaru wasn't sure if he should try to comfort him or not, or even how.   
  
"What about you, Subaru?"   
  
"Mmm?"   
  
"You said you lost somebody."   
  
Subaru shrugged.   
  
"There's nothing really interesting about it--everyone my age lost someone in the past."   
  
"That's true," Hikaru agreed. "So he died? This person you miss?"   
  
"Two of them did." Subaru paused for a moment. "Actually... make that one and a half..."   
  
Hikaru's face scrunched up in confusion.   
  
"It turns out there are some people that just don't stay dead," Subaru explained. "I just found out recently."   
  
"Oh... That's good isn't it?" Hikaru wondered, because Subaru didn't sound so thrilled about it.   
  
"......it's kind of complicated. Anyway not everyone you lose in life is going to die on you. Maybe it's harder to know he's out there somewhere, he's forgotten about you and moved on in his life. Leaving you to wish you were still one of the people around him."   
  
"But then there's still a chance, right?"   
  
Subaru was about to answer when there was a knock at the door. Neither moved to get it, Hikaru because he was a guest in Subaru's apartment and it wouldn't be right, Subaru because he was too tired to even entertain the suggestion of moving. Whoever it was knocked again, a little louder this time, although the second knock didn't seem to have anymore effect than the first had. After five minutes of staring at each other in a silent contest, Hikaru finally caved and answered the door.   
  
And met with a surprise.   
  
"Sh--Shindou?"   
  
"Isumi-san?"   
  
The two Go pros stared at each other. Isumi could only blink in surprise. He'd obviously been a little flustered and nervous before he had knocked, and having to deal with the unexpected seemed to cripple his cognitive functions completely.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Hikaru asked.   
  
"I'm here to see my father."   
  
"Father....?"   
  
Hikaru's expression changed dramatically as the little jigsaw puzzle pieces clicked into place. Grinning, he turned and shouted into the room.   
  
"Hey, Subaru, why didn't you just _tell_ me Isumi-san was your--"   
  
Had Hikaru tried to finish his sentence instead of jumping out of the way, he probably would've lost an arm. Or at least been knocked into the coat closet by a sprinting Subaru. His energy level had apparently gone from three-toed sloth to hyperactive sugar high schoolboy, and woe be to whoever was foolish enough to stand between the onmyouji and his son. As it was, Hikaru was knocked roughly to the ground as Subaru took his place in the doorway.   
  
"Hi ...I wasn't expecting you." Subaru was surprised but clearly pleased by Isumi's unexpected visit.   
  
Isumi glanced at the still-whirling-from-impact Hikaru.   
  
"I'm sorry--I didn't know you had company... I'll come back la--"   
  
Subaru grabbed Isumi's arm before he could turn away.   
  
"No, no, it's okay. Please, come in. What can I do for you?"   
  
"Well...." Isumi began cautiously.   
  
His eyes darted back to Hikaru, who had by this time risen from the floor and started yelling at Subaru for almost running him over. Here was cause for hesitation--as much as he liked Shindou, Isumi wasn't really sure if he wanted the other boy to be present when he and Subaru started talking about the past. In the first place, it would be a little embarrassing for someone else to know, and besides that, Isumi didn't know if he could trust Hikaru to keep things quiet. It wasn't that he'd do something malicious, but Hikaru was Hikaru--it'd be just like him to accidentally blurt something out.   
  
It went deeper than that, though. Hikaru had been right the other day when he said they barely knew anything about each other outside of Go, and that mysterious, otherworldly air that followed him made it difficult for Isumi to trust him completely. Prodigies were like that--their gifts made them seem almost not-human somehow. On the other hand, if Isumi reflected on his parentage, he would have to admit that he wasn't the most normal person on the planet, either, but he still expected people to trust him like they would anyone whose mother and father hadn't both been men.   
  
Nevertheless...   
  
"How do you and Shindou-kun know each other, Subaru-san?"   
  
"He had me spying on yo--"   
  
Subaru kicked Hikaru hard in the shin, at once cutting him off mid sentence and sending the boy with a yelp and a thump onto the floor (it was a testament to his skills as an assassin that he was able to do so without Isumi noticing). Smiling gracefully, Subaru waved his son further into the apartment and ignored the indignant teenager scowling at him.   
  
"Shindou is my....uh....assistant," Subaru explained.   
  
"Assistant??" Hikaru and Isumi asked in unison.   
  
Subaru shot a murderous look at Hikaru, speaking at once very slowly and clearly as if each syllable was of the utmost importance.   
  
"Yes, _assistant_, although he prefers the term 'gopher' and he's _not_ very useful."   
  
Hikaru snorted.   
  
"Yeah, it's part of my community service work ... you know, helping out _old_ people."   
  
"Well that's nice," Isumi said, smiling, barely aware that he'd narrowly prevented Subaru from pouncing on Hikaru and strangling the life out of him. "Although it's weird that out of all the people in Tokyo, you and Shindou ended up together."   
  
"Yeaaaaaah," Hikaru hissed, his eyes still locked on Subaru. "Isn't it _just?_"   
  
Subaru twitched.   
  
It was clear to Isumi that he had walked into the middle of some sort of spat. He didn't want to be responsible for the tension leading into a larger fight, so he decided to go ahead in spite of his reservations and provide the best distraction he could.   
  
"Subaru-san? There was something Kamui-san wouldn't really explain to me that I wanted to ask you about."   
  
"Please, call me Daddy."   
  
Isumi flushed a charming shade of purple and ducked under his long bangs.   
  
"I... I can't do that!"   
  
Subaru tilted his head cutely.   
  
"Oh, why not?"   
  
"Well ... uh ... it's that ..." In truth, Isumi had no good reason why not, but it just felt so silly calling a man he had just meet something so affectionate and intimate. He didn't want to say that, of course--he didn't want to risk offending Subaru.   
  
"Oh well, it's all right I suppose," Subaru conceded, sounding a bit disappointed but far from defeated. His tone suggested he'd bring the subject up again later on. "Now, what was it you wanted to ask?"   
  
Reaching into his bag, Isumi produced the Tokyo Tower pencil sharpener and held it out for Subaru to see.   
  
"I was wondering if you could tell me what this means."   
  
Subaru stared dumbly at the trinket for a moment before letting out a howl of laughter and shaking his head.   
  
"Where on earth did you get _that_ thing?"   
  
"It ... it was left with me when my adopted parents found me," Isumi said, looking very hurt at being laughed at. It was a serious matter to him, regardless of how admittedly tacky it was to leave such a thing with your baby.   
  
But the revelation that this pencil sharpener had been Kamui's farewell present did little to quell Subaru's obvious amusement. If anything, he laughed harder. He had to brace himself against the wall to keep from falling over. Hikaru gave Isumi a sympathetic look as if to say "Please forgive Subaru, he hasn't taken his medication yet today" and shrugged.   
  
Noting at last that he was embarrassing if not offending his beloved estranged son, Subaru got control of himself and cleared his throat authoritatively. Of course he could do little to suppress the grin spreading across his face, but he did manage to stifle the giggles.   
  
"So, Kamui left you with _that_??"   
  
"Well, yes," Isumi blushed a little, feeling ever more foolish as time went on. "He said it had some significance, but wouldn't go into it. I was hoping you would know--"   
  
"Uh-huh," Subaru squeaked before coughing sharply and continuing in a much more dignified tone. "Yes, it has a few significant meanings to Kamui, but I believe the most relevant one to the reason he left such a thing with you is ... it's where you were born."   
  
Isumi blinked.   
  
"I was born at Tokyo Tower?"   
  
"Well, actually, _on._" Subaru gently pointed to the top of the "Special Observation Deck". "See here? The roof."   
  
Hikaru gawked.   
  
"Now that's just stupid, Subaru! Why would they let a pregnant lady on the observation deck's _roof_?"   
  
Subaru gave the boys a meaningful smile.   
  
"Would you really like to know?"   
  
Hikaru glanced up at Isumi, who returned the look, then swallowed the hard lump in his throat and nodded.  
  
********   
  
This was just not turning out to be Fuuma's day. First, he had overslept and completely screwed up his carefully arranged schedule (8:00 AM, wake up, 8:30, eat breakfast, 9:15, purge Earth of its human cancer...). Then he'd gotten lost trying to find a remaining kekkai and had to call Kakyou for directions. Then he'd found that, wonders of all wonders, Subaru had decided to show up after all. Fuuma hadn't been counting on that--Angst Boy had missed all the cute "Welcome to the Dragons of Earth!" events Fuuma had arranged since the Sumeragi had enlisted on that side of the Apocalypse, so the Dark Kamui naturally assumed that he wasn't coming.   
  
(Not that Subaru had seemed any more enthusiastic as a Dragon of Heaven...)   
  
Frankly, Fuuma preferred Seishirou as the token assassin of his group. Seishirou at least hung out, sometimes with the disastrous result of Fuuma waking up hungover under Beast with a great gaping hole hole in his memory where the previous evening was supposed to be, but being drunk with the Sakurazuka was a lot more pleasant than being sober with his replacement.   
  
But right now, that was the least of Fuuma's problems. Despite running late on the most important day of his life, Fuuma had managed to assemble all that was needed to finish his work. All that remained was to hammer the final nail into humanity's coffin. Once he had won this final epic battle, the rivers of the world would run red with the blood of millions, humanity would be driven from Earth and nature would be allowed to reclaim the planet for her own. It would be beautiful--Fuuma's fingers trembled with excitement at the very thought of it.   
  
There was just one.   
  
Small.   
  
Problem.   
  
"He's _late,_" Fuuma said testily, tapping his foot on the roof of the observation deck.   
  
"Do you want to start without him?" Subaru asked.   
  
"We _can't_ start without him and you _know_ that."   
  
"Well then, I guess we'll just have to wait, won't we?"   
  
Fuuma scowled, then turned his gaze back to the ruined city.   
  
"I can't believe he's late... I mean, this is entire the reason he was BORN!"   
  
"Maybe he's stuck in traffic."   
  
Again with the snarkiness--the only parts of Tokyo that weren't on fire were underwater, so there was no way Kamui was gridlocked. Fuuma sighed dramatically and shot Subaru a most unamused glare.   
  
"If you're not going to be a team player, Sumeragi-san, you can just go home."   
  
Subaru shrugged.   
  
"I'm sure Kamui will show up eventually."   
  
"He's doing this just to throw me off my game, you know?" Fuuma snapped, throwing up his hands. "It says _clearly_ in our itinerary for the Promised Day that Kamui's _dead_ and the giant red energy dragons start carving up the Earth and destroying humanity by nightfall. And it's almost MIDNIGHT!"   
  
Subaru smirked.   
  
"It's approaching the end of the school year--what with finals and all, Kamui might not have had the time to look over the fax Kakyou sent him about the timetable for today."   
  
As Fuuma was about to give Subaru a big energy blast-shaped piece of his mind regarding that newly-acquired attitude, a small white hand shot up over the edge of the roof. Much grunting commenced as the person the hand was attached to tried to pull themselves up. After several moments had passed, a wily looking boy who Fuuma recognized as one of the Dragons of Heaven hopped up and pulled a panting Kamui up onto the deck.   
  
"That was dangerous, Kamui! If you had to come, you could have at least let me _carry_ you up here!"   
  
The Star of Kouya looked nervous and unhappy that his Kamui was planning to fulfill his destiny. Fuuma couldn't figure out why--Kamui was The Kamui, after all, and surely the Seven Seals knew that this was his-- WOW Kamui really put on some weight over the last few months...a _lot_ of weight....actually, if Fuuma didn't know better, he'd think Kamui was...   
  
"You're staring," Kamui sneered, his shinken gripped tightly in one hand and the other curved protectively around his belly.   
  
"G.....give me a minute here," Fuuma murmured. He _was_ staring at Kamui's interesting new figure, yes, but then again so was Subaru, and if anything, Fuuma had an excuse, as he was supposed to _fight_ Kamui like this.   
  
Talk about being thrown off your game...   
  
"Kamui, um...you're not...I mean, that's not...that's not possible, right?"   
  
"Yes, Fuuma," Kamui answered coolly, "apparently it _is_ and I _am._"   
  
"Oh. Oh. Ummm... who... whose--"   
  
"Subaru's," the young Messiah answered sharply.   
  
Subaru lost his balance and nearly fell off the Tower altogether, which would have been a very messy end and most unbefitting a man of his supposed grace.   
  
"_Me?!_"   
  
Fuuma and his slightly shell-shocked new Sakurazukamori exchanged confused glances. This was certainly _not_ on the schedule of events Kakyou had given them.   
  
"Are you sure about all this?" Fuuma asked.   
  
The seemingly innocent question was answered with a furious glare from Kamui.   
  
"**POSITIVE.**"   
  
While Fuuma was busy accidentally questioning Kamui's honor, Subaru had been carefully and urgently counting on his fingers. At last, he jumped to his feet and shouted, "That's impossible!! It's only been five months!"   
  
Kamui's face puckered into a completely unamused expression.   
  
"Yes, it _has_ been five months," he drawled. "Long time no see, _Subaru._"   
  
"You _can't_ be full term in five months!"   
  
"Plus he's a guy," coughed Sorata.   
  
"But _still!_"   
  
"It's okay, Subaru ... I've already got over my abandonment issues, and I'm not going to ask for child support or anything."   
  
"**Abandonment issues????** How was I supposed to--- how the Hell did I get you _pregnant_ anyway?"   
  
Kamui's glare slowly turned to Fuuma, locking on the Dragon of Earth with a contemptuous stare.   
  
"_Somebody_ wanted to grant my Wish."   
  
"Hey, I don't remember..."   
  
And then he paled and fell to his knees.   
  
"You wanted to be pregnant?" Subaru asked, raising an eyebrow. "No offense, Kamui, but you might've _asked_ before you used me to fulfill your bizarre fantasies!"   
  
"That's not it!!!" Kamui spat. "_I_ wanted to bring Fuuma back, but HE said I wanted a family, and he thought THIS would be pretty damn funny!"   
  
Subaru glanced at Fuuma.   
  
"I was DRUNK!" he howled.   
  
"Oh, there's a good excuse."   
  
As the two Dragons of Earth bickered about who was responsible for this bizarre turn of events, Sorata tried to pull Kamui aside, reminding him that it wasn't good for the baby for him to get so excited. Kamui, however, would have none of it--he shrugged Sorata's hands off his shoulders, drew his shinken and announced he was ready to get this the hell over with.   
  
Fuuma swallowed.   
  
"You _can't_ be serious..."   
  
"See, Kamui, what'd I tell ya?!" Sorata chimed hopefully. "Nobody expects you to fight when you're like this! Hey, buddy," he called to Fuuma, "how do you feel about maybe putting this off for a few weeks, just until, you know..."   
  
Kamui sneered and shifted his weight (he had to do it twice since he missed some of it the first time around) and settled into something that looked vaguely like a fighting stance.   
  
"I'm tired of this," he growled. "First it's my destiny to fight in the Final Battle for the fate of mankind. _Then_ it's my destiny to settle down and have a baby. Well, it's time for destiny to _make up its goddamn **MIND!**_"   
  
Of course, destiny recognized a good set-up line when it heard it, so just as Kamui was about to launch his attack, he howled and collapsed to his knees. Sorata was there to catch him as he began to fall backwards, and then to lay Kamui gently on the ground and watch over him, concerned.   
  
"Please don't tell me..." Fuuma breathed.   
  
"I'm not sure ... but I think he's going to have it now," Sorata confirmed.   
  
Subaru, staring, asked the question that was on all their minds:   
  
"Uhh... _How?_"   
  
Kamui, eyes ablaze with fury, pointed his shinken at Fuuma and panted through gritted teeth, "I'M .... GOING...TO **KILL YOU**"   
  
"Now that's the spirit, Kamui--don't let the baby ruin our special connection!"   
  
No one seemed to appreciate Fuuma's famous brand of Promised Day humor except Fuuma, but maybe that was par for the course.   
  
Kamui whimpered and burrowed his head into Sorata's thigh.   
  
"Oh god... oh god... it hurts, it hurts .... Sorata, I don't want to explode .... I don't want to explode, please, help me..."   
  
Sorata could do little more than stroke Kamui's hair, hold his hand, and promise him it would be okay. Neither he nor Subaru nor Fuuma had the slightest clue what they could do. Even if any of them could have understand the mechanics of how Kamui had ended up pregnant in the first place, or where this baby intended to come out, they were hardly qualified to keep Mother Nature from blowing Kamui to bits if that was what was supposed to happen.   
  
Fuuma, of course, had the benefit of having seen these odd exploding births twice before, along with the additional incentive of wanting things back on schedule. Now, Kamui _was_ supposed to die, that was true, but he wasn't supposed to die giving birth to Subaru's lovechild in the middle of Fuuma's carefully planned Apocalypse.   
  
And it really irritated Fuuma that things had gotten so far off track.   
  
"Here," he said, shoving a small piece of scrap metal into Kamui's mouth. "Bite."   
  
"Mmfmm?" Kamui asked.   
  
"What're you--" Sorata started. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Fuuma picking up his own shinken.   
  
"You've survived worse than this," Fuuma said calmly as Subaru held the flailing monk down. That was probably true, and about as much comfort as anyone would be able to give Kamui in this situation. What else could you say to a person when you were about to deliver their baby with a shinken and no idea what the Hell you were doing? Although on the other hand, if you were about to be split open by a sword for an emergency C-section, a shinken was probably top of the line.   
  
Fuuma knelt by Kamui's side. Kamui gave him a confused, panicked look.   
  
"It's either this or exploding. Probably. Now hold still--this is going to hurt. A lot."  
  
********   
  
"What happened next?" Isumi asked.   
  
Even before they'd taken their seats on the subway, he and Hikaru had been on the edge of them listening to Subaru's story. It was all too unreal to be true, but Isumi had already given up on thinking of this as his past. To him, it was just an exciting, well-told story. Sure, he _wanted_ to believe Subaru, but he doubted that he would ever be able to suspend his belief in the reality he had come to trust, the one in which there was no magic, humanity hadn't almost been wiped off the planet twenty years ago, and men didn't get other men pregnant.   
  
"Everything happened pretty fast after that," Subaru replied, sitting back. "Isumi was born, Kamui passed out, and Fuuma kind of lost it and took off."   
  
"So then, Isumi-san, like, saved the world!" Hikaru beamed.   
  
"More or less," Subaru agreed. "The battle never really happened, but we're all still here, so I suppose the Dragons of Heaven won by default."   
  
"Neat! So does this mean you've got powers and stuff, Isumi-san?"   
  
"I never really noticed," Isumi murmured, looking thoughtfully at his hands.   
  
"I'm sure you have lots of potential," Subaru smiled, putting a hand on Isumi's shoulder. Isumi turned bright pink.   
  
"I don't mean to change the subject," he lied, "but where exactly are we going?"   
  
"Well, since you've met Kamui and I, I thought you might like to meet the one other person who was there who we don't need a Ouija board to contact--Monou Fuuma."   
  
"_The_ Fuuma?" Hikaru gasped.   
  
"Well, what's left of him anyway."   
  
"So Kamui-san didn't kill him after all?" Isumi asked cautiously. Somehow, the more he learned about Kamui, the more devious, manipulative and down right crazy he seemed. All things considered he'd like not to believe that his own .... mother, as it were, was such an unstable, viciously cruel human being.   
  
"Well, no. After Fuuma realized the full weight of what he'd done, there wasn't much point in killing him."   
  
Isumi and Hikaru looked dumbly at one another.   
  
"Full weight?" Hikaru asked.   
  
"Um, other than helping screw up his own perfect apocalypse, was it really that bad?" Isumi thought aloud.   
  
"Well ..." a smirk curled up Subaru's face. "_I_ didn't think so. Fuuma, however, seemed to have serious issues with my parenting ideas."   
  
Again Isumi and Hikaru stared at each other, completely clueless, but it appeared there was no way to prod Subaru into elaborating. Whatever it was about Subaru's family life that had traumatized Fuuma so much was going to remain unknown to them for now. They could only hope that once they had reached their destination two subway stops down and six flights of stairs up, Monou Fuuma's condition would be able to provide some kind of clue.   
  
This mystery had put Hikaru into a somewhat corny 'play-Detective' mood, and as they stood waiting to be admitted to the apartment before them, he examined every last detail, scanning the plain, rather unimpressive hallway as if every spot, stain, and notch revealed a wealth of information. Occasionally he punctuated his observations with a thoughtful, "MmmHMMMMM." Isumi felt a gigantic sweat drop coming on, but then Subaru lightly pushed Hikaru out of his way and rapped heavily on the door.   
  
And suddenly both young Go pros' focus shifted away from the door itself and toward whatever might come out of it. There was a strange horror movie-style anticipation feeling to it. Subaru knocked again, a sound that echoed down the hallway and startled both his companions.   
  
"Neh, Isumi-san..." Hikaru whispered. "Doesn't it seem odd that we're on the 6th floor, but the apartment number is only 42? Shouldn't it be six-hundred something?"   
  
Isumi shrugged. "I don't think it makes a difference. Maybe there aren't that many rooms per floor?"   
  
"Hmmmmm...very _interesting,_" Hikaru murmured, frowning.   
  
_"Cooooooooming~~~!"_ a cheerful, energetic voice called suddenly from within the apartment. It was muffled by the 3 inches of hard wood placed between them, but Isumi could tell from just the voice that this 'Fuuma' was going to defy every perceived notion he had of the Antichrist.   
  
Well, _former_ Antchrist, anyway.   
  
The door swung open and filled the dank apartment hallway with an intense golden glow. Isumi squinted as a figure stepped out into it, cutting the sudden and severe light with his body. Once Isumi's eyes adjusted, he saw standing before them was a tall, fair skinned, cheerful-looking man with a beaming smile. Maybe it was just the retinal burn, but the man really did seem to radiate with some kind of intense, godlike power. With that bright, welcoming smile, Isumi had a hard time imagining this guy as the destroyer of Tokyo and potentially all of mankind, but that WAS a long time ago and Subaru had said Fuuma never recovered from the shock of Kamui's pregnancy ... maybe that was it.   
  
Although Isumi still had trouble wrapping his mind around the idea of the Antichrist being blonde.   
  
"Woooowww..." Hikaru breathed. Immediately he turned to Isumi and asked, "Do we bow or grovel or something? I've never been in the presence of someone with the power of God before."   
  
"How should I know?" Isumi replied nervously, suddenly aware that he was in the presence of the man responsible for his existence--and for all he knew, the one who could take that existence back if he so chose.   
  
"Sumeragi-san!" the man at the door laughed. He glomped--there was no other word for it--glomped Subaru. "It's been so long! What brings you to the neighborhood?"   
  
"Well," Subaru answered, untangling himself from the man's arms, "I thought I might pay Fuuma-kun a visit."   
  
Isumi and Hikaru blinked.   
  
"Wait, you're not Fuuma?" Hikaru asked.   
  
NotFuuma peered around Subaru curiously, fixing his stare on Isumi and Hikaru, who both shied away on instinct. Not being the officially licensed Antichrist(TM) didn't mean this guy didn't have some kind of holy power with which to smite them. Better not to take the chance.   
  
"You brought company with you?" the man asked.   
  
Subaru nodded, somehow managing to drag the two boys in front of him from across the hall without moving a single step from where he was. He put his hands on Isumi's shoulders and nudged him forward.   
  
"This is my son, Isumi Shinichirou."   
  
Recognition flickered in the man's eyes and suddenly his grin split wider. He looked like he was holding the urge to exclaim "Oh how precious!" and pinch Isumi's cheek in check, but only just. He did, however, glomp the boy before holding him out at arm's length to get a better look at him.   
  
"Wow, so you're _him!_ The baby! Wow! Awww, you're all grown up, aren't you! How old are you, Isumi-kun?"   
  
"N-nineteen," Isumi replied. He felt a little overwhelmed...   
  
"Wow! Nineteen! Has it really been that long? And he grew up so _handsome_! He really takes after you, doesn't he, Sumeragi-san?"   
  
Hikaru thought there was something vaguely sinister about the way Subaru said, "I know."   
  
"Well, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Isumi-kun! I've heard so much about you."   
  
Isumi flushed for a umpteenth time that day.   
  
"N... nice to meet you, too...ummm...?"   
  
"Keiichi! Segawa Keiichi! But please, call me Keiichi, everyone else does."   
  
Keiichi nodded toward Hikaru politely.   
  
"And the other one? Yours too, Sumeragi-san?"   
  
"NOOOO, thankfully my gene pool hasn't regressed _that_ far back yet," Subaru replied dryly, to which Hikaru only snorted and stuck out his tongue. No doubt he was no more pleased with the suggestion they were even remotely related than Subaru was. "That's Shindou Hikaru; we've been trying to lose him for blocks."   
  
Keiichi laughed.   
  
"You always did have the strangest sense of humor Sumeragi-san. Please come in, come in. Make yourselves at home." 


	10. Rachel Came Up With This Title

  
  
"Right this way! Sorry it's a little messy! Oh, here, give me your coat, Sumeragi-san! Does anybody want anything to drink? Maybe a snack? Waahhhh, it's been so long since we had company I'm so _happy!"_   
  
Hikaru had never seen an adult man so badly in need of Ritalin as their host, who practically bounced as he led them out of the dark hallway into a moderately less-dreary apartment. It looked as though Segawa Keiichi and the mysterious Monou Fuuma had taken up residence in one of the few buildings left standing from the old Tokyo period. The great earthquakes twenty years prior had turned most of the city into gravel, the damage so extensive that today, you could go months, maybe years, without entering a building that had been built before 2000. When you did, though, you could tell--they always had a sad, haunted quality. And this place was definitely a survivor.   
  
"Fuumaaaaaaaaaaaa! Company! I wonder where he is--hang on, lemme throw these on the bed..."   
  
As with all old apartment buildings the lighting was poor, though Keiichi didn't seem to either notice or be bothered by it. His bright and sunny disposition did cheer the place up a lot. Somehow, with him grinning and laughing and glomping everyone in sight, it didn't seem nearly as creepy or depressing as it probably should.   
  
Hikaru caught the sound of water running nearby, slightly muffled, as if by a door. Still in detective mode, he ran ahead of the others a little bit, proceeding down the corridor until he stood opposite a dark oak door. It was open just a hair, letting a fine blade of crisp light cut across the floor and onto the wall on the opposite side. Strange sounds were coming from within, sounds that, as Hikaru edged closer to the door, became more clear and distinct from the staticy noisy of the shower.   
  
_"The crying game....who wants to play....the crying game?... When all there are....are losers?"_   
  
Someone was singing. Actually, it wasn't so much singing as humming the tone and mumbling the lyrics at the same time. Actually, it was just pretty awful.   
  
_"Glimpse of the sun....eternal rain....the crying game...all it brings is pain...."_   
  
Hikaru pushed open the door a little further and peered in. He immediately froze, and might have stood there for hours, a look of shock on his face, if Isumi had been paying more attention and not walked right into him.   
  
"Ooof! Shindo--"   
  
"Is that _him_?" Hikaru asked, making no effort whatsoever to hide his disappointment.   
  
"Oh, I see you two found the bathroom okay!" Keiichi laughed as he joined them. "But don't go in there right now, Fuuma's--FUUMA!"   
  
Two bewildered and slightly panic-stricken gold eyes shot up. At the sight of the normally cheerful Keiichi's suddenly stern face, Fuuma immediately shirked guiltily to the far side of the shower, looking for all the world like he was about to start whimpering and break down into tears.   
  
"What on earth are you doing, Fuuma?!" Keiichi asked, hastily nudging both Hikaru and Isumi out of the way.   
  
"Taking a shower ... like you told me to," Fuuma answered meekly.   
  
"How many times do we have to go through this--_we don't take baths with our clothes on!_ Just look at the mess you've made!"   
  
".....sorry."   
  
Keiichi sighed and started toweling Fuuma off.   
  
"It's my fault, too--I should've said, _'take off your clothes_ and get in the shower', not just 'get in the shower'. But next time, try to remember, okay?"   
  
"'kay."   
  
"You just go get into dry clothes. I'll clean this up."   
  
Fuuma nodded and trotted out of the bathroom past Subaru and his two dumbfounded companions, leaving a trail of small puddles behind him.   
  
"Ehhtoooo..." Hikaru began.   
  
Isumi shook his head. "I don't think I want to know."   
  
"A wise decision," Subaru agreed, steering both of them into the living room. "You two wait here. Keiichi-san, I'm going to put on some tea, all right?"   
  
"Sure!" Keiichi responded from the bathroom, sounding cheerful once again. "You know where we keep it."   
  
As Subaru set about his task, Isumi took a seat on the couch. After a moment's hesitation, he started browsing the selection of magazines on the coffee table. Hikaru, meanwhile, continued to watch their host's distant form in the bathroom. He backed up a little, trying to get a better view--and then fell flat on his ass when he tripped on something. More embarrassed and irritated than hurt, Hikaru snatched up the offending object, which was a leather dog collar with a chain attached.   
  
"Oh, neat! Keiichi-san, you guys have got a--"   
  
He stopped.   
  
Lying a few feet away were a pair of handcuffs.   
  
And a ball gag.   
  
And oh dear god, was that a cattle pr--   
  
"Do we have a what?" Keiichi asked, smiling.   
  
Hikaru nearly jumped out of his skin.   
  
"Ooops!" Keiichi laughed. "I guess I left a few things lying out! Just lemme pick this stuff up..."   
  
Blushing so hard he thought his ears were going to explode, Hikaru dashed to the couch and sat down hard next to Isumi, trying very hard not to look anyone in the eye.   
  
"Umm... Subaru ... what...side was he on?" Hikaru asked through his bangs.   
  
Subaru blinked.   
  
"Who? Keiichi?"   
  
Isumi, who was also curious, nodded carefully, as if the mysterious Segawa Keiichi had superhuman hearing and could detect the sound of a more emphatic response. Certainly, if the man was taking care of the former Antichrist, he must be someone of _some_ significance--an Angel, a Seal, a_Something_.   
  
Subaru shook his head.   
  
"Neither. Keiichi was a civilian."   
  
"Ehhhhhh??"   
  
"How does a normal, everyday guy end up living with the Antichrist?" Isumi asked.   
  
Hikaru murmured something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _He's not that normal._ Subaru just smiled.   
  
  
Fuuma's shinken clattered onto the roof of Tokyo Tower. After a long, silent moment, he stood up with something pink and wailing in his arms and the strangest look on his face.   
  
"It's a _boy._"   
  
Distantly, Fuuma was aware that the baby was crying, but he just continued to stare, dumbfounded. He'd seen the miracle of birth twice before, but never with these results. It was a baby--a real, live, totally human baby. It wasn't a sword, it didn't have six heads or scales or claws or anything like that.   
  
Wonder of wonders, Kamui had somehow managed to get it _right._   
  
Fuuma glanced back over his shoulder at the Sumeragi standing at his side.   
  
_And it's **his**,_ he thought.   
  
Fuuma had always been very good at reading people, but becoming the Dark Kamui had magnified his natural ability a hundred-fold. He could see Wishes, of course, but he could see other things, too--mostly thoughts and motivations behind those secret desires, but sometimes beyond that...   
  
He'd often liked to wander through Subaru's psyche when he was bored. That was the only improvement Subaru had brought to the table when he had replaced Seishirou. Seishirou's psyche was relatively dull and uninteresting, while Subaru was so screwed up his mind was like a wish-granter's carnival. Complete with ferriswheel. Subaru had his main Wish, he had minor wishes, he had sub-wishes and wishes _about_ his wishes. If there was any room on Fuuma's Apocalypse Timetable, he could have made a whole project out of Subaru.   
  
So Fuuma knew a thing or two about Subaru. He knew about Subaru's twin sister, for example, and the very _close_ relationship they'd had before Seishirou had killed her. And Fuuma also knew a lot about Seishirou, and the relationship HE had with his _mother_ was just frankly disturbing. And that relationship was linked to the position of Sakurazukamori, the position Subaru now held.   
  
And now Subaru had a _kid_.   
  
"Give me the baby," Subaru ordered suddenly. He spoke with surprising authority, given the fact he didn't have much more experience than Fuuma with children.   
  
_"No."_   
  
Subaru hadn't expected an argument--or the protective look in Fuuma's eyes.   
  
"What do you mean 'no'?"   
  
Unable to think of a reason beyond what was--to him at least--unspeakable, Fuuma balked.   
  
"You'll _eat_ him."   
  
"I'm not going to _eat him,_" Subaru snapped. "Where in the world did you get that idea?"  
  
  
  
"You tell me, _Sakurazukamori_."   
  
"Fuuma ... give me the damn baby."   
  
They might have gone on like that for hours if Sorata hadn't gently but loudly reminded them that their first priority ought to be the baby's "mother," who lay cradled in Sorata's arms, worrisomely still. The monk had whipped up a compress from the tattered cloak Nokoru had given him to wear for the Apocalypse, but he knew Kamui needed to have actual medical care if he was going to survive this most recent experience involving Fuuma and his shinken. Judging from what Sorata had seen of the gash, it was clear that Fuuma did not have a future as a surgeon, and that Kamui wouldn't have much of a future PERIOD if they didn't do something soon.   
  
But neither of Sorata's companions moved from their positions.   
  
"Hmmm....switching tactics.....Subaru-san! You know the baby's going to need medical attention, too!"   
  
Subaru, who had finally wrested the baby away from Fuuma, snapped to life. He was somewhat concerned about Kamui, of course, but right now, he was more worried about the infant now resting safely in his arms. Yes, it had ten tiny toes, ten little fingers balled into miniature fists--he seemed normal enough. But he was also all covered in blood and .... _goo_.... Subaru wasn't sure if that's how babies were supposed to look, but even if it was normal, it was still kind of gross.   
  
"Are there any hospitals still open?" Subaru asked, frowning.   
  
Sorata thought for a moment, then, being careful not to jostle the unconscious Kamui, he produced a small cell phone with a fugu-shaped decoration on it.   
  
"Here, call Imonoyama-san! He's #2 on speed dial. He'll know what to do."   
  
Sorata prayed that this was true, because if the genius of Clamp Campus had no ideas, they were in pretty big trouble. The three detectives had suggested putting together a few birthing plans so as to allow for a wide variety of circumstances (Kamui going into labor at home, walking around on the street, in the middle of the battle for the final fate of humanity), but what with the impending Apocalypse and all, Sorata had never found time to finish mapping them out. No one had known Kamui was this close to his due date when he decided that nobody was going to stop him from meeting his destiny (and Sorata was still kicking himself for letting Kamui go in the first place), but really, they should've had this all figured out in advance!   
  
Minutes stretched into seconds (for Sorata at least) as he caught just brief snatches of Subaru's phone conversation, and then had to wait for the CLAMP Campus blimp to arrive at their location. Much to the monk's relief, though, Nokoru had brought several emergency medical professionals with him. They carried Kamui to the blimp in a stretcher, Sorata hurrying after them, refusing to leave Kamui's side even for a second. A nurse tried to take the newborn from Subaru's grasp, but Subaru only clutched the child tighter. Gross or not, Subaru reasoned, he was still _his._   
  
"Anou, Subaru-san, you need to make sure you hold the baby's head," Ijyuin admonished. "And you should let nurse-san check the baby."   
  
Subaru adjusted the infant in his arms, but still held the baby tight against his chest as he boarded the blimp. Dazed, Fuuma trailed meekly behind him. Within seconds the blimp left for the short ride across the bay to Clamp Campus, leaving only the two abandoned shinkens as traces of the failed apocalypse.   
  
When the blimp reached its destination, the paramedics rushed Kamui in one direction, Sorata chasing after, while Subaru was lead to the pediatric ward with the shrieking child still in his arms.   
  
And Fuuma was left alone.   
  
The hospital was mostly deserted. It was hardly surprising--once the streets had started flooding, people who were willing to stay through the earthquakes started fleeing en masse, and huge parts of the city were written off as disaster areas. Hospital patients were evacuated to safer locations (as if it would've done any good if the world had ended like it was goddamn _supposed_ to), leaving most of Tokyo's medical facilities empty. This place was probably the only hospital in the city that was operating on any level, and it was more like a haunted house than anything else. Only half the building seemed to have power--the rest was dark, empty, and abandoned.   
  
It was down these corridors that Fuuma wandered, alternately furious and freaking out. He'd considered the possibility that despite having a dreamseer on his side (two, actually), things might not go as planned. But that always was contingent on the incredibly slight possibility that Kamui would grow a set and put up enough of a fight to kill him.   
  
Well, Kamui _had_ grown a set, but predictably enough for Kamui it was the _wrong_ set.   
  
It didn't make sense--none of it! Kakyou had _told_ him the future was already decided! Fuuma had seen it with his own eyes, his own foreordained destiny! And there was no crying "bundle of joy" anywhere in the picture! No, it was dead Kamui and energy dragons tearing Tokyo to bits and _that_ was _that_.   
  
ARGH, how could this happen during _his_ Apocalypse? He'd always tried to be so responsible! He'd searched for _hours_ to get that stupid eye because Kakyou said Destiny required it. He'd killed Nataku even though he didn't want to because Destiny required it. Hell! He was even wearing his goddamn school uniform instead of some beautiful swishy coat because that was the way things looked in Kakyou's visions! And now, after months and months of faithful service, Destiny was fucking him over like this?! What was the point of destroying all those kekkais, killing all those people, the two Kamui, the two shinken, everything, if this was how things ended up?!   
  
And what was supposed to happen next? What was left for him? It wasn't as if Fuuma had any surviving family members--and well okay that was kind of his own fault really. But dammit, he'd poured everything he had into the Promised Day with the impression that he wouldn't _need_ to have something to fall back on afterward because regardless of who won he would be dead.   
  
What was he supposed to do now?   
  
To be honest ... he was a bit nervous about it.   
  
More than a bit.   
  
And Kamui...Kamui had just had _Subaru's kid._ That was fucked up on so many levels...and Subaru was a sociopath, a complete nutcase...of course, Fuuma had played a pretty big part in making him that way...not that Subaru had been such a great role-model in the first place--he was already pretty apathetic beforehand, and there was that whole thing with his sister...   
  
...that...._thing_...with his _**sister...**_   
  
And Fuuma had just given him a _KID._ An innocent little boy, who Subaru was probably already having unholy thoughts about right now...   
  
Fuuma slid to the floor and sat with his chin on his knees and his sanity quietly spilling out of his ears. The murmur of the half-living hospital faded away as he withdrew into a deep, dark place, so far removed from the rest of the world that he didn't even realize anyone else was there until he felt a hand jostle his shoulder.   
  
"Are you okay?"   
  
Fuuma's eyes snapped open. For a moment, he thought he was being addressed by a giant candy cane, until he realized that he was looking at the red and white-striped dress of a candy-striper. The candy cane almost would've made more sense, though, because the dress was on a blond _boy_ (whose boxers Fuuma could see when the stranger crouched down to look him in the eye). Had Fuuma been in a better state of mind, he probably would've told himself that medical supplies of all kinds were probably in short supply, so a person simply had to make do with what was available.   
  
But he wasn't, so it was just one more thing to make his brain go SPROINK.   
  
"Are you lost?" Keiichi asked. "Hey, is that blood? You're not hurt, are you? I'll go get a--"   
  
Fuuma wrinkled his brow.   
  
"'M not...hurt...." he mumbled.   
  
"Oh! Good! But you look kinda funny. Is there someone here with you? Can I call someone for--"   
  
"SEGAWA-SAN!" someone shouted from down the hall. "WE NEED A HAND IN PEDIATRICS!"   
  
Fuuma buried his face in his knees.   
  
Keiichi didn't move--he just stared thoughtfully at the young man before him. After a moment, he rested a hand on Fuuma's head and rubbed it gently.   
  
"Hey...what's wrong? I mean, I know I can't do much, but maybe--"   
  
"SEGAWA-SAN!"   
  
"I'LL BE THERE IN A MINUTE!" Keiichi shouted back.   
  
"NOW, SEGAWA-SAN!"   
  
Keiichi glared down the hall. Glancing once more at Fuuma's huddled form, he plunged into one of his pockets, grabbed a piece of paper, and scribbled something on it. He shook Fuuma again, then forced the paper into his hand.   
  
"I know this is sudden, but listen, that's my phone number and my address. If you need anything, I mean anythi--"   
  
"SEGAWA-SAN!"   
  
"--give me a call, or just stop by even," Keiichi concluded. He smiled gently, gave Fuuma a one-armed hug, and then ran off in the other direction.   
  
Fuuma stared at the piece of paper.   
  
  
That evening, Fuuma appeared at Keiichi's dorm room with a bag of ice cream in his hand and a look of desperation on his face. Keiichi let him in, and they hadn't parted since.   
  
********   
  
Hikaru had recovered somewhat as Subaru talked, and was even having a good time playing Connect 4 with Fuuma. He had won at least five times in a row since they'd started, but then this wasn't Go and Fuuma wasn't exactly a challenge. The guy was like a five-year old--a disturbingly sexy five-year old, but a five-year old all the same. Subaru was right to refer to him as 'what was left of Fuuma'--not only wasn't he all there, it was like he had never _been_ there in the first place.   
  
Isumi listened attentively on Subaru's right, drinking his tea and nibbling on the sweet vanilla wafers Keiichi had set out for them. It was hard to read his reaction to the story. He seemed to be accepting it as if it were nothing unreasonable, but then he could just as easily have been humoring Subaru.   
  
On the other hand, maybe there was just no point in arguing the issue anymore.   
  
Fuuma, meanwhile, was completely oblivious to everything that was going on around him, as he had been for most of their visit. Every now and then he would look up suddenly as if waking up from a nap, surprised to see Hikaru sitting across from him and obviously confused as to who he was. He'd wave cheerfully at the boy, look around him for a moment or two and then fall back into their game. Hikaru was starting to doubt this man could even tie his own shoelaces, let alone destroy most of Tokyo.   
  
Keiichi sat on the other side of Subaru, beaming and laughing and adding little side comments to Subaru's story (apparently, he still had the candy-striper uniform somewhere). Occasionally, he'd pat Fuuma on the head affectionately and try (unsuccessfully) to feed him a wafer. He had the most happy, childlike quality to him, but Hikaru caught flashes of something very serious and smart beneath it. He was a little like Sai...   
  
Hikaru shook that thought out of his head immediately. Sai was gone ... for good ... Subaru had said so. He just had to accept that and move on. Otherwise he would get all angsty and depressed every time he meet someone who reminded him of Sai on any level.   
  
"You know, Kamui's my friend, but I have to say, he was really irresponsible," Keiichi's said, his voice breaking through Hikaru's thoughts. He was serious now, frowning slightly at the end of Subaru's story. "As soon as he regained enough of his strength, he took Isumi-san and just ran off."   
  
"He had some help," Subaru added.   
  
"From Sorata-san?" Isumi asked. Subaru and Keiichi nodded.   
  
Hikaru didn't get it--why would anybody run out of a hospital when they'd nearly been gutted, let alone with their newborn son? How stupid and reckless could you be--   
  
Then it clicked--this Kamui guy was _afraid_ of Subaru. That's the only reason why he would run, or how else could he have convinced that seemingly level-headed Koya boy to help him do it? It was the only thing Kamui could have possibly found threatening in that hospital, because certainly it wasn't _Fuuma._   
  
But really, why would he be afraid of Subaru? True, the man was perpetually cranky, and he certainly fancied himself an intimidating figure, but really, all he did was talk to dead people, and well ... Hikaru did that too ... kind of.   
  
And Subaru could be oddly sweet at times, too. Hikaru usually saw him scowling, but he could almost imagine a smile in those features, pushing up the corners of his mouth, showing his few gentle age lines just a bit...   
  
No, he didn't see what was so scary about Subaru. The man was a dork. An old dork, kind of a cute dork, but a dork all the same. Nothing to be afraid of.   
  
Hikaru turned back to the game he was only half-heartedly paying attention to, and noticed with some confusion that one of his little red pieces was creeping slowly up the board game. Didn't Fuuma realize you weren't supposed to stick your fingers in those holes....   
  
"HEY!" Hikaru shouted, pointing accusingly at the former Antichrist. "That's chea--"   
  
One sharp look from Subaru and Hikaru was back down, sitting cross-legged on the floor, annoyed but stewing silently. Well ... he supposed he could let Fuuma win this one.   
  
"Why did Kamui-san think Subaru-san killed Sorata-san?" Isumi asked.   
  
Keiichi blinked.  
  
  
  
"Kamui thinks Subaru-san killed Sorata-san?" He 'hmmmm'ed with a puzzled look on his face. "He never mentioned that before."   
  
Subaru shrugged. "He might ... Kamui doesn't like coincidences."   
  
"Coincidences?"   
  
  
Since the day his child had been born Kamui had not seen one sunny day, and in the darkest of his moments he had no choice but to acknowledge the ominous nature of that. The sky was pouring down dirty ash-filled rainwater, gray clouds all but blocking out the sunlight and the ruins of Tokyo's once glorious sky scrapers hanging overhead like huge gothic tombstones. The rain was the final result of Fuuma's work--the debris from so many collapsed buildings had laced the clouds with dirt and girt and burnt ash. Kamui sometimes thought that he should probably be thankful that it wasn't _acid_ rain at least, but when he was soaked to the bone and holding a wailing child to his chest, he had little patience for optimism.   
  
The awning above their heads was keeping them out of the rain for now, but if the wind picked up it would be of little use. Keeping dry for the moment was actually the least of Kamui's concerns, though--he might not even mind the rain if he had anywhere to go to get warm and fed.   
  
But he didn't. He was, in effect, homeless.   
  
The baby wouldn't stop crying. He was hungry, Kamui knew, and like Kamui he was cold and wet and unhappy. Kamui could do little to soothe him but rub his back and bounce him a bit and hope he'd fall asleep soon. None of it worked--the only way the child might be sated was with a full stomach, and at the moment, that was impossible. Kamui had left the baby's bottle and the whole big diaper bag full of baby stuff at the restaurant with....   
  
He paled and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Since he had come to Tokyo his skin had managed to thicken enough that he didn't have to fight back the tears he might have months ago, but the memory of the smell made him nauseous. He hadn't imagined the dead began to smell so quickly ... but then Sorata hadn't been gone _that_ long....maybe the mere sight had triggered the memory of the smell of death engraved in Kamui's mind. Hell, he didn't know; he hadn't stayed around long enough to determine whether the sensations that washed over him were real or imagined. He'd just panicked as soon as he realized Sorata was dead and bolted.   
  
It wasn't that he was afraid of being accused of murder--he just couldn't stay there. He couldn't stand to look at Sorata's face. He needed to get away from that site before it sunk in. Sorata, the only person he really had left, who took care of him, who Kamui was just starting to see as more than a good friend, was dead.   
  
Kamui ran, as far and as fast as he could with an infant in his arms, and now that he was so far away he knew going back wasn't an option. It was the most dishonorable and disrespectful thing he could do to Sorata's spirit, but he couldn't ... he couldn't look at the corpse of another important person. There was just no way. Inside, he prayed Sorata would understand and forgive him.   
  
He had no food for his child, no money to find lodging or buy formula (and he would be damned if he was going to tempt fate by trying to figure out how to manage the more natural method of feeding a baby), and no idea what businesses or shelters had survived the destruction of Tokyo. There had been a few public locations where people who lost their homes could go for food and shelter, but they had long since been moved outside the city. And of those buildings still standing, few were open. Even the apartment building whose awning he was taking shelter under was boarded up tight.   
  
Kamui hugged his child closer to his chest. He needed to find a place to stay, if only for the night. CLAMP Campus was out of the question. He was certain the remaining Seals hated him for his ... slight oversight concerning Arashi. They had probably only tolerated him after that for Sorata's sake, and now that he was dead ... well, there was no question in Kamui's mind that once the remaining Seals found out they would definitely hate him.   
  
More than that, they probably thought he was a huge freak after all of this. There was no way he could return there.   
  
He looked back to the abandoned building behind him. He could ... possibly ... the boarding up and locks were of no concern when one had the power of God. It would be cold, dank, and he still wouldn't have any food, but maybe he could find some blankets to warm them both up...   
  
"Now _here_ you are..."   
  
Kamui tensed immediately. _Oh no... not here please_. This was the absolute worse turn of events--it wasn't like he could fight with a baby in his arms. Now he was cold, wet, hungry and defenseless on top of that.   
  
With no better weapons, Kamui settled for the hardest, most vicious glare he could manage. Subaru stood laconic and calm under a large red umbrella and dressed in his usual smooth black garments. Kamui had no idea how long Subaru had been approaching him without his notice, or why Subaru spoke as if he had been looking for Kamui tonight.   
  
And wasn't that a little suspicious? What if ... ? What if Sorata's death hadn't been an accident?   
  
Subaru, for his part, didn't notice Kamui's attitude. He joined them under the awning and peaked curiously at the bundle in Kamui's arms.   
  
"Ohhhh....this is the little one, I presume?"   
  
Kamui was horrified by how easily Subaru took the child out of his arms. His first impulse was to launch and snatch it back, or wrestle Subaru to the ground until he got it away from the Sakurazukamori. But he stopped himself short on that, not just because it was foolish but because the child who had been wailing for an hour straight had actually quieted down in Subaru's arms.   
  
_It's because Subaru's dry and warm whereas I'm cold and wet_ Kamui told himself. _It's not a preference ... it can't possibly be a preference, he doesn't even KNOW Subaru..._   
  
Subaru smiled softly at the child, whose big violet eyes were fascinated by this new yet somehow familiar face. A tiny hand reached out to grab at the Sumeragi's nose while the other fist was planted firmly in mouth, sucking lightly.   
  
"He so much more attractive when he's cleaned up," Subaru laughed lightly.   
  
To which Kamui could only grumble uneasily and snort. He was waiting for the worst. For Subaru to take off into the night with the only person he had left, his only living family member. Or for Subaru to summon up his hungry tree or some other horror and feed his child to it. Sorata's death had only confirmed what Kamui already knew to be true: everyone important to him was ripped away from him. Why should things be any different with his son?   
  
"You shouldn't be out here like this--he'll catch a cold," Subaru remarked, looking all too delighted with the child in his arms. "Here, come with me. I'll take you home."   
  
"NO!" Kamui shouted before he could stop himself.   
  
"No?"   
  
Kamui shrugged and stared at his feet in shame. His violet eyes seemed particularly dark when he was as torn as he was now. Was Subaru being sincerely kind to him? Could he really trust the Sakurazukamori to be honest, or was this a trap? Fuuma had often lured him into trouble with a kind face, and given Kamui many ugly bruises on his neck for his foolishness. Subaru wasn't Fuuma, of course, but then Kamui couldn't be very sure _what_ sort of person Subaru was anymore.   
  
"I can't go back there," Kamui whispered.   
  
Subaru had the good sense not to ask. He paused, watched Kamui carefully as he thought about whether to convince the teenager that things back at CLAMP Campus weren't as bad as he imagined or find some alternative lodging for the two of them. Frankly he didn't know _what_ the situation at CLAMP was like, so it would've made pretty poor assurance.   
  
Finally Subaru tilted his head up, frowned a little and abruptly made an uncharacteristic offer.   
  
"Let's go to my place, then."   
  
The Sumeragi didn't wait for Kamui to agree or disagree--he simply turned and began walking down the street, leaving Kamui standing in the rain with little choice. He could either stay there and watch Subaru go, or he could catch up.   
  
***********   
  
*thump*thump*thump*thump*   
  
Such had been the rhythm of Touya Akira's day as soon as it had begun. He couldn't say Kamui hadn't given him fair warning of what awaited. Akira had never considered himself short-tempered, but when Kamui gave him the specifics about what Ryoma had put his last five roommates through, he started to doubt just how long he could last before he just strangled the spoiled brat.   
  
And that's what Ryoma was to Akira, a spoiled brat. So he didn't like sharing his living space with others? That was no reason to resort to the special brand of scare tactics and attitude Ryoma had used to rid himself of previous roomies. Hey, Akira didn't like living with others, either--maybe he should just give Ryoma a taste of his own medicine...   
  
No ... that wasn't fair. Ryoma was only 13, away from his home and family and under the care of Kamui's strict anti-incest organization (that alone ought to win a person some sympathy points). Moreover, the boy was a potential victim of incest, though Kamui hadn't imparted any specifics on that and Akira thought it would be rude to ask. Ryoma's life before AID could have been horribly traumatic as far as Akira knew. He shouldn't be hard on the other boy--he deserved his understanding and patience if nothing else.   
  
Although ... Akira wasn't sure how much sympathy he could muster for Ryoma when the go stones on the board before him were trembling and jumping with the rhythmic *thump*thump*thump* of the tennis ball hitting the floor. Like a little mosh pit of stone formations that hopped up and landed back down with a soft clatter, each time landing perfectly in place.   
  
Akira lifted his eyes away from the board and watched Ryoma pace casual circles around him as he had been for at least twenty minutes, bouncing his tennis ball on the floor with his trusty racket. Every time it seemed to Akira that the ball came closer and closer to his board, but it never seemed to get close enough to knock any of the carefully placed stones off. He would be surprised if the ball ever made even the slightest contact with the board itself. Ryoma had excellent ball control, and this was just a test.   
  
That was right: Kamui had said that Ryoma would go out of his way to provoke him. This was just a test, just Ryoma sizing up his next opponent and trying to see how far he could push Akira before Akira lashed out. Obviously, if he lost his temper now he would just give Ryoma exactly what he wanted. Besides, the ball-bouncing torture had been going on for a while now--how much longer could he keep it up?   
  
As if to answer that question, a few moments later Ryoma switched the racket easily to his left hand without missing a single beat of the ball. He stretched out his right arm as he did to keep it from cramping out under the strain of the repetitive moment.   
  
Akira gritted his teeth. Logically, he shouldn't be nearly this annoyed. After all, he was just replaying and studying an old game. If Ryoma smacked into the Goban and ruined his recreation, it wasn't like he couldn't just fix it in a few seconds.   
  
Then again, Chinese water torture didn't draw blood, but it was still very effective.   
  
"Could you please stop that?" Akira asked finally. Okay, so maybe it was crying 'Uncle,' but he really didn't think he could take another 20 minutes of this impromptu tennis practice ... and lord help him if Ryoma could hold that racket with his feet or something.   
  
When his initial request was flatly ignored, Akira calmed himself down and switched to more tactical thinking.   
  
"I have to go to the bathroom and I can't get past you this way."   
  
The tennis ball jumped seemingly of its own will and landed gently on the topside of the red racket. Ryoma rolled it easily around the edge until it came it a complete stop. Then his gold eyes stared at Akira curiously and innocently as if he had no idea how obnoxious he was being. And his silent retort was complete.   
  
Until the time he was in junior high school Akira had been baffled by the way others reacted to his behavior. Kids his own age especially seemed to resent him just for breathing. Once, Ogata had explained to him that there was just something in Akira's manner that was just inherently alien to children. Akira had grown up in an adult world, and everything about him--the way he spoke, the way he dressed, the way he carried himself, had been sharply influenced by this very mature world. His manner had an air of status to it, the kind of status that one demanded from the younger and the less experienced. He had been spoiled in that regard. All the adults in his life, save for his father, treated him like either an equal or a superior. Akira had never known how children were supposed to act around adults or how children behaved among other children.   
  
Never before had Akira understood what Ogata-sensei had meant. But there was just something inherently unnerving about Echizen Ryoma, something that made even the smallest gestures seem rude and condescending. Were it not for the fact that he was pretty sure Ryoma was doing at least part of it on purpose, he might have identified with the boy a bit.   
  
He didn't really have to go to the bathroom, but it gave him excuse to remove himself from the room for a little bit and splash some cold water on his face. Incredible--years of sharpening his focus until his concentration was unrivaled at the board and he was being intimidated by a child. He wondered if this was the kind of frustrations that the other pros felt when he began challenging them at the age of 14.   
  
When he came back, Akira found Ryoma lying on his bed intently studying a tennis magazine. If anything this put Akira on the defensive and he quickly discarded the option of picking up where he left off in the kifu. Ryoma had successfully broken his focus; Akira wasn't going to learn anything from studying games now. He might as well just crash on his own bed and wait for the next apocalypse.   
  
The bed was predictably very cheap. The mattress had a few hard lumps in it and a groove where many human bodies had slept night after night without turning the mattress. It was certainly a far cry from his room at home, but this room was also free of the overpowering silence of an empty house. This room was still, but if he listened hard, he could hear the gentle sounds of Ryoma's breathing or an occasional rustle of movement a few rooms down. And that was more comforting than he had anticipated it being.   
  
"So what was it--mother, father, sibling, or just some miscellaneous relative?"   
  
Ryoma's voice startled Akira.   
  
"Huh?"   
  
Ryoma gave him a frank look over his magazine until Akira understood what he was asking. Akira flushed just a bit. Kamui-san hadn't explained whether to be honest about this or not, whether the other wards would resent him for not being a potential incest victim or not. Akira didn't like lying ... moreover, the others would probably be more hurt by realizing he had lied later on.   
  
"No, no, I'm not--"   
  
"Yeah, yeah," Ryoma sighed. "Join the club."   
  
"Huh?" Akira repeated dumbly.   
  
"That guy has a very loose definition of incest. I was just curious about what excuse he pulled you in on."   
  
"Oh ... didn't you choose to be here?"   
  
"Yup," Ryoma yawned.   
  
"Well ... who..." He hesitated with broaching the subject. It might be too sensitive a topic to address on the first real day here.   
  
But to Akira's surprise, Ryoma had absolutely no problem with answering that personal question. Nor did he seem especially bothered by Akira asking.   
  
"My father."   
  
"Oh ... I'm so sorry. That must have been horrible..."   
  
"Not really."   
  
Akira just blinked at him.   
  
"If it wasn't that bad, why did you decide to come here?"   
  
Ryoma put down his magazine and studied Akira carefully. Akira wasn't sure what he was looking for but the stare was strangely more intimidating then the ball-bouncing torture.   
  
"Cause I want to beat him and training here will help me do that."   
  
"Beat him?" Akira echoed.   
  
"At tennis."   
  
"Oh ... so you're using Kamui-san, then."   
  
Ryoma looked like he were about to laugh.   
  
"Don't you think he's using you? That guy ... this whole organization exists just to facilitate his agenda. Or didn't you realize that yet?"   
  
Akira supposed that was at least partially true. Kamui had founded this organization to keep his son safe, but he seemed to have no clear cut goals beyond that. AID's mission statement of 'ridding the world from incest' was idealistic at best. Even Kamui must have realized the futility of any world wide reform.   
  
Maybe he _was_ being used.   
  
*************`   
  
Sohma Kyou smiled nervously at Misaki as they entered the Piffle Princess store. This was not his idea of an afternoon's outing, but he'd been unable to say no to her when she had asked him to join her. Of all the other AID wards, Kyou definitely liked Suzuhara best, although that wasn't saying much, as she earned that distinction largely by being the only one who never made fun of him. And, she always politely kept her distance so as to prevent any _unfortunate_ transformation accidents. But the main reason he had agreed to this shopping expedition was it meant that he didn't have to spend any more time with his cousins, that tennis brat or that creepy doll collector.   
  
"Anou, thank you Kyou-san," Misaki began, blushing slightly as she looked up at the older boy. "I really appreciate--"   
  
"It's nothing," broke in Kyou, scowling slightly.   
  
She smiled.   
  
"Thank you, Kyou-san."   
  
Misaki thought that despite his gruff exterior, Kyou was really a very sweet person. Of course, Misaki thought all the other AID wards were very sweet people. Like that Fuji-san! It was talking to him at Tokyo Tower that had inspired this little excursion, as it'd reminded Misaki just how much she missed being involved in Angelic Layer. When she saw the advertisement in the school newspaper about a sale and new arrivals at Piffle Princess, she knew she had to find a way to attend and immediately asked Kyou if he'd go with her. Kyou hadn't shown any particular interest in Angelic Layer, but Misaki still harbored hopes that he'd get into it, since he loved martial arts.   
  
  
  
The escalator carried them to the second floor.   
  
"And just remember," Kyou said firmly, "I'm not-- ACK!"   
  
The displays were thronged with customers, many of whom were members of the opposite sex. Everyone pushing and shoving to try and get to the new arrivals, bumping into each other...Kyou started to bristle and back away anxiously.   
  
Misaki, on the other hand, was so enraptured by the display that she failed to notice either the crowd or her reluctant companion's reaction. Kamui gave the AID wards a small allowance, and Misaki had been saving hers. Perhaps she would have enough to buy something small for her angel. Carefully, she stood on her tip-toes and reached out to grab a small sleeveless trench coat. At the same time, someone next to Misaki reached for a piece of new computer software, jostling her and causing the clumsy girl to lose her balance and start falling backwards.   
  
"Naaaaaah!" exclaimed Misaki-and then she suddenly found a pair of strong hands grasping her shoulders and stopping her descent. She looked up into a politely smiling face.   
  
"Misaki-chan, it's so nice to see you again," said an amused Fuji Shuusuke.   
  
Misaki exploded into a blush.   
  
"Naaaaaaaaaaaaah! Fuji-san! What are you doing here?!"   
  
"Well, I enjoyed our earlier discussion so much that I wanted to find out more about Angelic Layer. There certainly are a lot of people here today..."   
  
"There are!" Misaki agreed. "I'm not sure I would have come if I'd known it would be so crowded..."   
  
"I'm pleased that you did," smiled Fuji. "I wanted to apologize for leaving you so suddenly last time."   
  
Misaki felt her heart beating faster and her cheeks getting redder.   
  
"Anou, Fuji-san, you're still..."   
  
Fuji helped Misaki right herself and released her.   
  
"Are you going to buy that?" he asked curiously.   
  
Misaki looked more closely at the trench coat, only to realize that it cost more than the small amount of money she had.   
  
"Oh.....no...I'm afraid my allowance is too small..."   
  
She reached up to hang the coat back on its rack--and then Fuji snatched it out of her hand.   
  
"Let me buy it for you, then."   
  
"Naaaaaah! You shouldn't do that, Fuji-san!"   
  
"Whyever not?" Fuji's ever-present smile turned down slightly in confusion. "Besides, I still feel bad for being so rude the other day."  
  
Misaki trailed Fuji to the cash register, stammering that it really wasn't necessary, it was too expensive, and really, it hadn't been rude at all...   
  
  
  
"So you really don't have to...." she trailed off as Fuji gently pushed the Piffle Princess bag into her hands.   
  
"Now, would you like to get something to eat, Misaki-chan?" he asked.   
  
"I--Naaaaaaaaah! Kyou-san!"   
  
"Kyou-san?" asked a puzzled Fuji.   
  
"He's my friend, who came shopping with me today," answered Misaki. "AID wards aren't supposed to go out alone because....because...."   
  
"Because Kamui-_san_ is afraid an _evil_ Borgia agent will kidnap you?" Fuji laughed, thoroughly amused.   
  
Misaki looked up at Fuji, not really knowing how to respond to his statement. After an awkward pause, she turned and shouted, "Kyou-san!"   
  
Fortunately for Misaki, Kyou had extremely sensitive hearing. He quickly began skirting the crowds to re-join her. As he approached, he was surprised to see her standing with a smiling young man he didn't recognize. He wondered if Misaki secretly had a boyfriend...well, so long as he wasn't her brother, Kamui would be fine with it, but...   
  
"Who's this?" Kyou demanded, frowning. On closer inspection, there was something about this stranger that Kyou just didn't like. His expressions, his movements, they reminded Kyou of someone, or someone_s_, and it set his nerves on end.   
  
"I'm Fuji Shuusuke. Misaki-chan was explaining to me the other day the pleasures of Angelic Layer." Fuji winked at the girl, who blushed slightly.   
  
"Sohma Kyou." _Could be Yuki. Yuki always makes me feel sort of like this_. "Come on, Misaki, we need to get back."   
  
"I'm afraid Misaki-chan already agreed to join me for a snack," Fuji replied in a polite but forceful voice. "Of course, you're welcome to come, too."   
  
Kyou was torn. He really sort of did want a snack, but there was something about this Fuji person he just didn't like. Ayame? Maybe some sort of horrible cross between Yuki and Ayame...   
  
"Since Misaki already said 'yes'..." Kyou growled.   
  
The three walked to the nearest Dukylon Cafe. As they did, Fuji asked Misaki more questions about getting involved in Angelic Layer, while Kyou's expression just became darker.   
  
"What would you like?" asked Fuji as they approached the counter.   
  
"A hot chocolate, but I can pay for it myself, Fuji-san," Misaki replied.   
  
"But I insist--I can't let a cute girl pay for herself, now can I?" Fuji teased back. "And since you're her companion..."   
  
Kyou wanted to run away from the rather large and unnerving smile on Fuji's face. He didn't understand how Misaki could actually seem to enjoy spending time with this guy...   
  
"A hot chocolate also," Kyou mumbled finally.   
  
"Why don't you two find a table for us, and I'll bring our order," Fuji offered.   
  
Misaki and Kyou did, and once they were out of earshot, the boy announced that he did _not_ like Fuji one bit.   
  
"Naaaaah?" exclaimed Misaki in surprise. "But Fuji-san's so sweet! He reminds me of Oujirou-san, we use to compete in Angelic Layer together and--"   
  
"He reminds me of someone, too," Kyou interrupted. "Someone I don't like."   
  
"Who don't you like?" asked Fuji curiously, coming up silently between the two AID wards and sliding the tray between them. Kyou jumped.   
  
"Anou, Fuji-san, isn't it a little cold to be eating ice cream?" Misaki asked.   
  
"It's never too cold for strawberry ice cream," Fuji chuckled, taking a bite from his cup of strawberry ice cream. "Do _you_ like strawberry ice cream, Kyou-kun?"   
  
Kyou drank his hot chocolate so fast it burned his tongue. He was starting to think spending the afternoon with the tennis brat would have been better. Hell, spending the afternoon with Yuki would have been better.   
  
"So, how did you two meet?" he asked darkly.   
  
  
  
Misaki turned scarlet.   
  
"We met during a business discussion the other day," Fuji explained, "but we unfortunately never got to finish our chat because another unexpected _engagement_ came up."   
  
Fuji opened his eyes slightly at the word 'engagement' and Kyou felt a shiver run down his spine. He _really_ _really_ didn't like this Fuji-person at all. With horror, Kyou finally realized who this guy reminded him of--Shigure, definitely Shigure, only somehow _worse._ That shouldn't have been possible, but it _was._   
  
Kyou grabbed Misaki's arm and pulled her up from her chair.   
  
"We have to go now!"   
  
"I hope we get to meet again, Fuji-san!" called an apologetic Misaki as Kyou hauled her from the cafe.   
  
Fuji waved to the departing couple and then smiled as he finished his ice cream. He knew what he had done to Kyou had been rather evil, but it was just too easy. After gathering together all their trash and placing it in the proper receptacles, Fuji headed back to Piffle Princess determined to buy all that was necessary to make himself an Angel. He'd ask his friend from the scrap booking club for some advice on costuming it. His only regret was that he hadn't gotten Misaki's cell phone number before Kyou had so rudely dragged her away. Perhaps, Eriol would be able to supply him with this information--after all, they did attend the same school.   
  
Fuji picked out an Angel Egg from the shelf and smiled. 


	11. Annex 2 : Good Wife, Wise Mother

Annex 2 : Good Wife, Wise Mother  
Author's Note: Just to avoid the inevitable confusion on this point, this Annex could take place at any point after chapter 9, could be in Book 1, could be in Book 2. It's simply being put after Wank 09 because that's when it happen to be written, where exactly it occurs in the Wank timeline is not all that important so imagine it where ever you want.   
  
As a lady-in-waiting for the Empress, Murasaki Shikibu composed the world's first trashy romance novel. _The Tale of Genji_ is such a prolific work that even western scholars who normally more concerned with the achievements of their own culture acknowledge its place among the great works of literature. In a way, it is a mark in the evolution of human society. It was the first book of that length, the first real novel ever written by a human being. Granted, were it written today it might not be held in such esteem--it is after all pages and pages of sexual affairs with thousands of poems and poetic references mixed in--but imagine the accomplishment. To be the first to compose what has become a life work for millions of writers world wide...   
  
In that same era, it was the women, not the men, who developed the Japanese writing system while the men continued to try to force our native language into an ornate cage of Chinese characters. Some of that tradition carries on to this day, but mostly it is the so called "woman's language" of the Heian era that all the great people of Japan write in.   
  
The women in the Heian era achieved great things without moving away from the role society said they were to play. Of the figures we remember today of the Heian era, an overwhelming majority of them are women who with their pillow books, romances and poems, managed to reach beyond the hold of men.   
  
Shuuko-san lives across the street. She is a so called "career-girl", much to her mother-in-law's displeasure ... but then mother-in-laws as Shuuko-san says are rarely happy with their darling sons' wives. I see her sometimes in the morning as I'm hanging out the morning laundry to dry, her briefcase in hand, walking confidently with the rest of the morning migration towards the train station. In this suburb of Tokyo not many woman work for a living, Shuuko-san is a little oddity no one seems to know what to do with. Sometimes our neighbors jokingly wonder if her husband intends to raise the children and do the housework once they have a family, sometimes I wonder to.   
  
We're not friends, but she stops sometimes as she walks to the train station and we talk. She tells me about the freedom and fulfillment of the working woman as if trying to sell me on the idea, or perhaps sell herself on the idea. I find that I don't usually know what I'm supposed to say, so I hide behind interested nods and a few "oh is that so?" or "that sounds nice" and hope that she's too busy for more engaging conversation.   
  
She usually is.   
  
In truth, I don't think her life is nice at all. I don't see Shuuko-san in the evening when she comes home. Instead, I see my husband when he returns from this supposedly liberating working world. Most of the time he's too tired to speak more than grunts to me. Since I never know what time he'll be coming home, I stopped trying to plan dinner around his schedule long ago, so I heat up a plate I made up for him as he goes in to use the bath. He eats, he goes immediately to bed only to wake up the next morning and repeat this grueling process day after day.   
  
One time he tripped over a copy of Natsume Soseki's _Kokoro_ as he headed towards the bathroom. I remember thinking that he looked as if he had no idea what a book was, like he had no concept of what purpose such a thing served in his life. There might have been a flash of recognition in his eyes at the time. He might have remembered reading that book as a high school student. But if he did he didn't seem to realize the irony of his tripping over _that_ particular book when he lives the daily life he does, he was too tired to.   
  
The copy of _The Tale of Genji_ I'm reading now I found in Hikaru's room when I was cleaning. Buried under at least a month's worth of Shonen Jump, completely forgotten. It struck me as odd that Hikaru would own such a thing, let alone read it. Hikaru has been full of surprises lately, but he's never been particularly good in school to begin with. The idea of him reading a book on this level, even just casually, baffles me for a moment. But then, perhaps the level is why it's buried under so much manga. Hikaru always shoots higher than he can reach and that causes me to worry about him sometimes.   
  
The door bell rings.   
  
Murasuki's words hold me tight, but ultimately I put down the book and move to open the door. In twenty minutes the laundry will be dry enough to fold and put away, then I can have an hour more of reading time before I must start thinking about dinner. Perhaps I will use this interruption as an excuse to ask Hikaru what he wants to eat tonight. True, I know what he'll say already. It's what he always says-- Ramen! But who knows? Perhaps tonight he will surprise me...   
  
Standing on my doorstep is a man around my age I suppose. He's taller than I am, and dressed all in black from head to toe. With his black hair and pale skin it looks as if his body is standing in the middle of a void between time and space, although I can tell his clothing is fine, expensive and very real. He has this odd look about him, something refined and alluring yet mysterious and even a bit dark. I couldn't help but stare at him.   
  
...he has the most haunting green eyes.   
  
"Good afternoon, is Shindou home?"   
  
Our neighborhood is good, upper middle-class I'd say if I had to guess. Not many women work, and not many people like this one come around here. He spoke as casually as he could without being impolite, but his voice had an edge to it that made everything he said seem so much more formal than it should have been. The result was a style somewhat both unnerving and soothing in its courtesy. Very elegant, without deliberately being so.   
  
With some trouble I manage to take my focus off him long enough to answer. "My husband is at work right now, I don't know what time he will be home but I will tell him you stopped by Mr..."   
  
The trailing off was his cue to give me his name, but he did not. Instead he seemed a little caught off guard and embarrassed by my response. I wondered what I had said that was so unusual--   
  
"No, I meant your--"   
  
"Subaru!!!"   
  
From the top of the staircase Hikaru yelped before barreling down upon the front hallway and nearly knocking down the shoe rack. _Oh_, I realized, _he meant my son_.   
  
I frowned slightly, here was a man approximately my age asking for my 16 year old son as if he were a neighborhood boy looking for a playmate? It didn't bother me nearly as much as it should at the time, the world of Go had invited so many weird people into Hikaru's life already. Still a part of me had never accepted the oddities of the Go world as completely healthy and I cannot help but worry when things like this happen.   
  
I've always worried about Hikaru, but I've been worrying about him more since he started Go. I don't know any mothers of Go players, I don't know what I'm supposed to expect or what sort of future Hikaru will be able to make for himself now. I hate not being able to see whether my own child is on the right path or whether it's the beginning of a long downward spiral. I suppose a part of that is natural and a part of it is Shuuko-san's influence too. I'm not working, if Hikaru turns into a failure ... what sort of contribution to society will I have made? I cannot give him the wisdom he needs from his mother when he's in a world I can't even begin to understand.   
  
Hikaru had his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, he shifted it a few times ... clearly it's filled with a bit more than-- whatever it is Go players bring when they study. I might have heard the sound of metal brushing against metal too.   
  
"Annnoooo..." I began. "Are you going somewhere Hikaru?"   
  
He rolls his eyes at me, his voice very annoyed and rude. "I _told_ you last night Mom, I'm staying over Isumi-san's house."   
  
I remember 'Isumi-san' he was that nice, polite, somewhat shy, older boy who talked Hikaru out of that depression he fell into last spring. I liked him, he seemed like a good boy and a good influence on Hikaru, but this is the first time I've heard of plans to sleep over. Nice or not, Isumi-san is a few years older than Hikaru, to me it doesn't seem very appropriate.   
  
"You never mentioned--"   
  
"Yes I did," Hikaru replied in his usually testy tone. Sometimes I wish I wasn't raised Japanese. I know that other women in other countries would smack their child right across the face if he ever spoke that way to them. Idly, I wonder what Hikaru would do if I backhanded him when he gave me that attitude of his. Don't misunderstand, Hikaru is a very sweet boy, kind and very honest, but children need a strong sense of discipline that only a father can provide. Hikaru's father works, so Hikaru has an attitude and a rudeness that has never been properly corrected. When he uses that tone with me, a part of me would really like to smack him just to see what he would do, but a part of me knows it wouldn't be proper to handle it that way. He's just a child, and his disrespect is only common childhood brattiness. Something he will grow out of.   
  
"You just forgot," Hikaru finishes.   
  
Now I know consciously that I did not forget, that Hikaru just didn't bother telling me probably because he knew I wouldn't like the idea of him staying over a 19 year old's house when we don't know the family. I have half a mind to stop him from leaving, but there's little I can really do.   
  
It would be different if Hikaru was a girl I think with an exacerbated sigh.   
  
"When will you be back and how can I reach you?"   
  
"Tomorrow and don't worry about it Mom, it's fine."   
  
"But--"   
  
"I said it's fine."   
  
I suppose that's the point I normally would have given in and let Hikaru have his way. It's not good I know, but I can hardly blame Hikaru for believing what Shuuko-san and the working world believe. To them I am not a free or an intelligent being because I do not work. By staying at home, I have the time and freedom to think, to read, and to do the things I enjoy whereas they do not. I can sit while Hikaru's at a game and work on improving my English, while Shuuko-san with all glorious freedom works herself to death trying to compete with men. But I'm the one the world pities. I can forgive Hikaru for looking down at me like he does sometimes--   
  
"Don't speak to your mother like that," 'Subaru' said from his position at the door. With traces of disapproval on just the right words and a surprisingly firm tone, Hikaru responds the way a child should. He is initially surprised that Subaru spoke-- as am I-- and then he looks down at his shoes a little ashamed and very embarrassed.   
  
I'm not sure what I should say. I have yet to be introduced to this Subaru-san.   
  
"But--" Hikaru protested softly.   
  
"I lost my mother when I was too young to remember her, don't speak to your mother like that" Subaru repeated. Neither one of us knew what to say to that. People usually don't just volunteer that kind of information in public, I felt almost guilty about having heard it and of having been so unable to control my son that the man had to say it.   
  
Hikaru shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder again. His attitude had deflated and been replaced by a quiet sort of shame and remorse. He doesn't apologize, but he doesn't argue either.   
  
"You have your stuff?" Subaru asked. The underemphasis he put on 'your' made me think he's not referring to anything Hikaru might need to stay over for the night, or anything that Hikaru personally owns. Probably he just put it in those words to keep me from being suspicious about what exactly Hikaru was carrying.   
  
"Yeah...."   
  
"Good." Subaru's tone softened a bit, holding the annoyance level in his voice just high enough to keep Hikaru in line. The man scribbled something down on a note pad he carried in his dayplanner and hands it to me with a polite smile.   
  
"They'll be at my apartment Shindou-san, that's the phone number if there's an emergency."   
  
"Oh ... thank you ... ummm..."   
  
"I'm Isumi-kun's father, I'll be with them all day. You don't need to worry, they'll stay out of trouble."   
  
Hikaru made a small sarcastic noise in the back of his throat.   
  
I was still unsure about letting Hikaru go. There seemed to be something going on that's not being said, but I refused to pry since it's probably just a Go thing. It's always just a Go thing, and I wouldn't understand it anyway.   
  
Instead I bow low and say, "I'm sorry to trouble you Isumi-san."   
  
The man at the door twitched a little and said nothing. I could see that his first impulse was to correct me about something, but he swallowed it as inconsequential. I wondered if perhaps I mispronounced the name. 'Isumi'... that was the way Hikaru had always said it, but then again Hikaru called this man 'Subaru'. Hikaru could be a little rude when referring to others particularly, but the man hadn't corrected him either.   
  
"No trouble," Subaru answered. "I'll drop him off tomorrow afternoon."   
  
I could see no car on the street, I wondered how he intends to drop Hikaru off if they're taking the train. The idea that he might escort Hikaru back to make sure he gets home safely is oddly charming, very old fashioned of him. Hikaru's such an odd child, he dresses like a degenerate, inhales American food and products like his life depended upon them, but has a fetish for very traditional things. An inescapable attraction to anything classically Japanese, first Go, then _The Tale of Genji_, now this man he clearly respects. There's something very ancient in Subaru's manner, I could sense it as well, as I know Hikaru must.   
  
"All right," I agreed. I was not much more comfortable with the idea, but it did give me another few hours to read and to work on my English before I had to make dinner for Hikaru's father.   
  
"We'll be going then," Subaru bowed his head politely and started off towards the train station with Hikaru in tow.   
  
"Bye mom."   
  
"Goodbye" I waved. I was not completely comfortable with the situation, but I easily realized the good that is coming from it. That man is at least in part, whether Hikaru realizes it or not, a father figure to him. In the Japanese working world children lose their parents and adults lose their sense of spirit. Hikaru's father is never home. Shuuko-san never seems to have any time for any of the things that make life worth living. Sometimes I wonder what Hikaru would be like if I thought like Shuuko-san did and tried to have a career. What would I be like if I wasn't free to page through the brilliant works of literature while the dish washer spun and hummed? 


	12. Chocolate Covered Snark

  
  
While it was true that the Go world was a fairly small community where most everyone of any importance knew everyone else, Akira hadn't for the life of him been able to remember where he knew the name "Isumi Shinichirou" from. It was familiar somehow, but it wasn't until he saw the picture Kamui had included in Isumi's AID case file that things finally clicked.   
  
And now he was having one of those really bizarre "seven degrees of separation" moments.   
  
Akira had never spent a lot of quality time with his rival outside of their Go matches and therefore wasn't well acquainted with his social circle, but he'd noticed that whenever he saw Shindou during lunch breaks or before or after a game, he was almost always flanked by two other boys. One of them Akira seemed to have offended simply by existing, which was one of the main reasons Akira avoided socializing with Shindou.   
  
And the other was Isumi Shinichirou.   
  
In some respects, Akira wondered why he was surprised. Only three people passed the pro exam each year, and of the most recent passers, only one bore any resemblance to Shirou Kamui. A very _strong_ resemblance at that, Akira thought, though Kamui had insisted that Isumi really took after his father. "Father?" Akira had said, wasn't Kamui Isumi's father? Kamui quickly changed the subject, a pattern Akira was learning to anticipate when dealing with AID's eccentric leader.   
  
_AID Case File: Isumi Shinichirou. Level C class 9._ (Akira still had no idea what that meant). _Status: under observation._   
  
The file consisted of a long, mostly useless list of Isumi's habits and interests. As if in standing testament to AID's effectiveness, "C.C. Lemon" and "Richard Kern Movies" were both mentioned _before_ "Go". The words "Richard Kern" were double underlined in red ink like two bleeding slashes in the paper. Jotted down next to it in the same handwriting were the words "possible BeBoy Collection" followed by a disturbing number of red stars.   
  
All and all, the file told him nothing of any use, except that AID organized their information in the most confusing and backwards manner humanly possible, something Akira probably could have guessed on his own.   
  
The case file sat open between the pages of an over sized book of kifu, making it look like Akira was studying, instead of mulling over his assignment for the Anti-Incest Defenders. He felt a little silly using a technique school kids used to hide their magazines during class, but being who he was and where he was, if Akira didn't look like he was deep in his studies, everyone at the Go Institute would want to know exactly what he was doing. Better to avoid suspicion.   
  
The technique also afforded Akira a way to covertly watch Isumi Shinichirou, who was currently playing a casual game in the adjoining room. So far, Akira's observations had yielded nothing unusual about the older boy, nor had a study of his game records provided any evidence of inner turmoil or trouble. That didn't mean there _wasn't_ any, of course, but Akira had always felt that a person's Go strategy was the best reflection of their mental state. Even knowing Shindou Hikaru hadn't shaken that belief, despite the fact that the boy played with brilliance and grace while having the reasoning functions of a turnip. There was always the exception that proved the rule.   
  
The funny thing was that at that very moment, Shindou Hikaru was sitting directly across from Touya Akira with only a table to separate them. Yet so focused was Akira on his assignment that he failed to register his rival's presence. It was probably just as well, though, because Hikaru hadn't noticed Akira, either.   
  
Because he too was fixated on Isumi Shinichirou.   
  
Before he had found out why Subaru was so interested in Isumi, Hikaru had been mulling over the possibility that his friend was actually some kind of government experiment escaped from the lab and on the run. Admittedly, under the tender and attentive care of many issues of Shonen Jump, that idea had kind of gotten out of hand, and in retrospect, it didn't seem very plausible. But it was Subaru's fault for letting on about that "special powers" thing. What was a boy _supposed_ to think when he found out someone he knew might be able to blow things up with his mind? Super-powered government guinea pig was a pretty logical conclusion as far as Hikaru was concerned.   
  
This curiosity over Isumi's powers (or potential powers at least) was currently occupying a great deal of Hikaru's thoughts, almost to the exclusion of anything else. Hikaru couldn't help continuing to stalk _watch_ Isumi just to see if he was in fact withholding some wicked grandson-of-God type abilities. He was in fact so fixated that when Waya Yoshitaka, his nearest and dearest, walked in and said 'Yo,' Hikaru didn't even feel a bump in his train of thought, much less notice.   
  
Waya, for his part, wasn't surprised to find Hikaru sitting at the same table as Touya Akira. Nor was he surprised that they weren't talking or even acknowledging each other's presence. Waya just figured they'd had a fight, and now like two _children_, they were giving each other the silent treatment, each waiting for the other to cave first (probably Hikaru).   
  
Or at least, that's what it had looked like from afar. It was only when Waya got closer and found himself being completely and utterly ignored, that he noticed that the two of them were both looking very intently in the same direction. And following the line of their vision, he came to the disturbing realization that they were both staring at Isumi.   
  
No, maybe that wasn't it...Waya moved a little to see who Isumi was playing ...no, no such luck--just a relatively unimpressive lower dan. If there was anything worth staring at in that direction, it was definitely Isumi.   
  
Waya allowed himself a minute to be weirded out by that. Shindou and Touya were both absolutely fixated on Isumi....and maybe Waya was mistaken, but... wasn't that a _picture_ of Isumi-san among Touya's papers?   
  
_Whoah..._   
  
Now, Waya knew that he had himself on many occasions partaken in some Isumi-staring. The older boy was _quite_ pretty and certainly very stare-able. You couldn't blame a guy for looking. But...   
  
Well, Waya knew why _he_ did that, but to think of Shindou or Touya ...   
  
He shivered.   
  
Okay, Waya could deal with Shindou--heck, that might even open up some interesting possibilities--but he'd be _damned_ if he was going to be in a love triangle with _Touya_. Given that he'd lost to the other boy in practically every other arena, this was one area he didn't want opening up to competition.   
  
"Shindou..."   
  
No response. Hikaru had the funniest grin plastered all over his face, and his eyes seemed glossed over too....Waya didn't _know_ what he was thinking about, and Waya didn't think he _wanted_ to know what he was thinking about.   
  
"Oi, Shindou!"   
  
Hikaru might have twitched in response, but Waya hadn't the patience to notice if he did. He did, however, wait a good five seconds before he put Hikaru in a headlock and noogied the hell out of him.   
  
"ACKK!!! WAYA!!!"   
  
There, _that_ did the trick.   
  
Hikaru's squeal startled Akira out his own thoughts as well. The book he was holding closed with a violently guilty snap. His pretty green eyes, wide as dinner plates, stared anxiously at the two boys in front of him as if to say 'What? I wasn't doing anything!!!'   
  
Hikaru and Waya looked at each other. Waya shrugged.   
  
************   
  
Kamui sighed heavily as he removed his jacket and scarf. Despite the optimism with which he had set out that morning, the day had proved a dismal failure. The college boy he'd given some AID literature to earlier had, according to the daily newspaper, thrown himself under a bus. The only reasonable explanation Kamui could think of was that Kinomoto-kun had realized that his boyfriend was actually his brother (albeit in a transitive sense), and had been so horrified by this realization that, well...   
  
After paying a condolence call to the boy's family, Kamui had then tried to prevent the Takahashi brothers from consummating their relationship, only to arrive too late (although not too late enough for Kamui's tastes). He should have known that race car drivers moved fast. But then brotherly incest was _always_ the most virulent and hardest to prevent and isolate. This was something Kamui had tried explaining to Tezuka earlier in the day before leaving the teen in charge of that morning's AID programs. Well, at least with Kinomoto's death, Tsukishirou-kun would now be safe, although they'd have to keep an eye on Kinomoto's younger sister to make sure she didn't try to follow in her brother's footsteps...   
  
"Papa-Kamui! 


	13. The Angsty Chapter

  
  
Tezuka wanted to sigh, but he felt it was beneath his dignity to do so, no matter how frustrating the situation was. At times like these, he really missed tennis--if one of your players wasn't performing, you just had them do fifty laps around the court, and sooner or later, the situation would resolve itself. But the relationship between mentor and apprentice was _different_, and no amount of laps would get them past the current impasse.   
  
"Suzuhara, don't look so startled and stop giggling."   
  
"Yes, Tezuka-san," Misaki answered in a faltering voice, her cheeks becoming red. "It's just hard to imagine that...that...that..."   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"... that you're _proposing_ to me."   
  
"Ah," responded Tezuka, frowning slightly.   
  
They'd been working on this particular exercise for several weeks now to no avail. This had been the first time Tezuka had been able to coach Misaki's features into the correct serious visage (for some odd reason, she always started giggling when he told her to pretend he was her brother), but the illusion was shattered as soon as he asked his first question.   
  
"Have you been practicing without me, Suzuhara?" Tezuka asked.   
  
"Yes!" the girl responded cheerfully. "Momiji-kun said I was getting better, but Echizen-san just said `mada mada dane'."   
  
At this, Tezuka _did_ sigh.   
  
"Misaki," he said firmly, "you need to become the pillar of AID."   
  
"Naaaaaaaaa!" exclaimed Misaki.   
  
********   
  
After their training session ended with the usual mixed results, Tezuka put on his blue scarf and reached into his jacket pocket to see if he'd gotten any messages on his cell phone. There were five _new_ messages from Inui, most likely more gossip about the Seigaku tennis team...   
  
Tezuka turned his phone off, then turned it back on again. His heart jumped when he saw there were now seven messages, then sank when he found the two new ones were _also_ both from Inui.   
  
Why hadn't Ryoma called? They must have arrived by--   
  
A small thoughtful frown appeared on Tezuka's face. Was it possible the carnations he had ordered hadn't been delivered? Having worked closely with Kamui-san, Tezuka knew the older man had a lot of very strict rules concerning gifts to AID wards. Not that Tezuka disagreed with this policy--from what little he knew personally about the sordid world of incest, there were relatives who would stop at _nothing_ to get what they wanted, but still...   
  
Tezuka pressed #2 on his speed dial and help the phone next to his ear. It only rang once before it was answered.   
  
"Oi! Baka Aniki! I told you 'no' six hundred times already, so _stop calling me!_"   
  
"That's exactly the response I wanted to hear, Yuuta," Tezuka commended, smiling.   
  
"Tezuka-san! I'm sorry!" Fuji Yuuta apologized, still sounding a bit irriated. "Aniki has been... has been..."   
  
Yuuta trailed off. Despite the fact Tezuka now knew _all_ the facets of his rather complicated relationship with his brother, Yuuta still didn't relish talking about this _particular_ one.   
  
"Remember, Yuuta-kun, you need to always be honest with me. That's the only way this will work."   
  
"Yes, Tezuka-san," sighed Yuuta. "Aniki wants us to go away on a ski trip. I told him 'no', but he keeps calling me."   
  
"Don't give in, Yuuta-kun," admonished Tezuka.   
  
Yuuta didn't respond.   
  
"Yuuta-kun, I really think you should ask Kamui-san if you could become an AID ward."   
  
"I don't think that would work, Tezuka-san..."   
  
An awkward and guilty pause stretched between them. Tezuka still regretted that he had been unable to save Yuuta from his brother. He felt almost responsible for the current situation. After all, Fuji had enjoyed his first _success_ after Tezuka's orchestrated loss to Atobe Keigo so that he could begin his AID training...All Kamui's efforts to assuage Tezuka's guilt had come to naught, and the recent revelation that Fuji was a member of Borgia continued to weigh heavily on the boy's conscience.   
  
Yuuta let the phone drop from his ear. He wasn't entirely sure what to say. Like Tezuka, Yuuta believed that incest was wrong in the abstract, but this was _his_ brother, and for all the shouting and transferring schools and "baka aniki!"s, Yuuta _did_ love his brother. And sometimes he wondered if _maybe_, in this _specific_ case...   
  
Now, dammit, thoughts like that were bad enough, but when he was on the phone with Tezuka-san...Yuuta shook his head and paced over to Mr. Cheeky's cage. The hamster immediately hopped off its wheel and followed Yuuta closely with his eyes, as if the boy were the most fascinating thing in the world. To a hamster, Yuuta supposed, maybe he was.   
  
"You've been on that thing all day," Yuuta said, grinning, as he dumped a handful of sunflower seeds into Mr. Cheeky's bowl. "Take a break."   
  
"What?" Tezuka asked.   
  
"Not you, Tezuka-san! I was talking to Mr. Cheeky."   
  
"Oh. Cheeky-san again. Listen, Yuuta-kun, have you thought about looking for a boyfriend?"   
  
"Ehhh?!"   
  
"I'm saying, if you had already had a boyfriend--one who _wasn't_ your brother--"   
  
"That won't work," Yuuta sighed. "I don't know if you've noticed, Tezuka-san, but Aniki is really, um, _territorial_. I think he enjoys playing tennis against people who have gotten too, uh..._**friendly**_ with me."   
  
"I know all about Mizuki," Tezuka said tersely, lips pursed.   
  
"And there was that guy from Hyotei, Akutagawa--"   
  
"The one who beat you in fifteen minutes?"   
  
Tezuka could have sworn he heard Yuuta bristling over the phone.   
  
"_Yeah_, him. But that's not all. While you were away, Aniki played Saeki-san. And he even called me up on the phone in the middle of the night to tell me he played Echizen."   
  
"Echizen!?!?"   
  
"Ouch! Don't shout into the phone, Tezuka-san! Anyway, yeah, we hung out and played video games a few times after our match. He beat me at that typing game with the zombies, but if I had a little more time, I probably could have beaten him..."   
  
"_Echizen?!?!_"   
  
"Yeah, Tezuka-san, Echizen. So yeah, when Aniki found out we'd been spent some time together, he made sure to challenge him to a game. I'm only grateful that Aniki wasn't as rude to him as he's been to most of the other guys who've tried to be friendly with me. You know, I sometimes think about trying to hang out with Atobe-san just cause it'd be fun to see Aniki play him...hey, Tezuka-san, are you still there?"   
  
The answer to that question was yes and no. Yes in that Tezuka was still on the other end of the line, but no in that his mind was somewhere else entirely.   
  
_A date at the arcade with Yuuta-kun...so Echizen IS interested in other boys...but then why won't he accept _ my_ affections? Does Echizen only like being with people he's beaten at tennis? I wonder, if I lose to him on purpose..._   
  
"Tezuka-san?"   
  
"I think we should go out this weekend," Tezuka said firmly.   
  
"Ehhhh?!?!?!? T...Tezuka-san, I like you as a friend, but--"   
  
"I didn't mean you and I, Yuuta-kun, I was talking about--I think you should go on a blind-date this weekend. I know the perfect person....We can meet on Sunday in front of the Nostalgia Sega Joypolis in Ikebukuro at 4:00 pm."   
  
"I...I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Yuuta murmured.   
  
"Look at it this way--it will give you a good reason to turn Fuji down next time he calls you about this weekend. I'll call you tomorrow."   
  
Tezuka hung up before Yuuta could protest again. Yuuta sighed and flopped down on the bed.   
  
"Why doesn't anybody ever listen to me? Tezuka-san doesn't, Aniki doesn't, and Mizuki-san...Sometimes, Mr. Cheeky, I think you're the only one. You understand me, don't you? So what do _you_ think? I almost feel like I would have been better off accepting Aniki's date."   
  
Mr. Cheeky, sitting on Yuuta's chest, sniffed his hand in a manner Yuuta took to be affectionate. Yuuta smiled and patted him absent-mindedly. Only later did it occur to him to wonder how Mr. Cheeky had gotten out of his cage.   
  
********   
  
Based on what he knew about his parents' relationship, Isumi might have been surprised to learn that for a few months, Kamui and Subaru had enjoyed a short period of domestic--well, "bliss" would be pushing it, but they had an arrangement, and for a while, it worked out all right.   
  
Sort of.   
  
"I'm home," Subaru announced as he kicked off his shoes.   
  
"Welcome home." Kamui's voice came floating up from somewhere within the apartment. It wasn't a very heartfelt greeting, really--he said it more out of habit than anything. Subaru thought that eventually the cold shell would wear away and Kamui would start to enjoy his life here a little. He just needed time to deal with all he had been through.   
  
It was slow going, though. It had been weeks before Kamui would even allow Subaru to come anywhere near him, since he was so convinced Subaru would harm him or his son. Even now, when that question seemed settled, Kamui was still wary of the slightest touch. After all, there was no way to know whether Fuuma's little practical joke was a one-shot deal or a permenant adaptation; Kamui certainly didn't want to risk it with unnecessary physical contact. And he was at least that distant emotionally.   
  
It bothered Subaru. All of it. It wasn't as if he had intended for this to happen. Of course, he'd known when he accepted the Sakurazukamori position from Seishirou that it would not only made him Kamui's enemy but that it would also be a horrendous violation of the trust they had built up between them. He hadn't wanted to hurt Kamui like that, but that didn't change the fact that he had obligations he had to fulfill.   
  
Slowly, the two of them had come to an understanding about that, but the rest of it ... well, it wasn't like there was a Hallmark card to say "I'm sorry I didn't realize that I could knock up the Messiah." It was unsetting the way Kamui shied away from him at the smallest touch, but it wasn't a problem that Subaru could fix. What on Earth could he say that would make any difference? He would have liked to have assured Kamui that the biological quirk that he had fallen victim to wouldn't happen again ... but he couldn't say that for sure. It was doubtful even Fuuma could say for certain; he had been just as surprised as the rest of them.   
  
And he certainly wasn't in a state to tell them _now._   
  
Subaru found Kamui in the living room reading the paper. Their son was sitting in his highchair, pushing cereal pieces around the tray with his pudgy infant fingers. He looked bored and on the verge of tears. Kamui wasn't exactly a neglectful parent--he made sure his son was well feed and clean and comfortable. But there just wasn't much of a connection emotionally. When the baby cried, Kamui tried his best to soothe him, but beyond that he seemed uneasy with the child's very existence and determined to ignore it as much as humanly possible.   
  
Most babies wouldn't stand for it, Subaru thought, but this child was very calm and good-natured. He had accepted Kamui's habitual coldness already.   
  
The baby cooed when Subaru picked him up out of the highchair. Kamui's eyes momentarily left the paper he was reading in response. He scowled when he saw Subaru holding their child and tried to distract himself with the comics.   
  
"Did you start dinner yet?" Subaru asked.   
  
Kamui nodded, not looking up.   
  
"Great. What're we having?"   
  
"...I thought omlettes."   
  
"Sounds good. Did the dry cleaner call about my coat?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Can I pick it up tomorrow?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Okay, good."   
  
"But they're adding a surcharge."   
  
"What? Why? There wasn't any more blood than usual--"   
  
"They had to fix a button."   
  
"Oh."   
  
And that was about as involved as their conversations got. Kamui didn't particularly care to hear about Subaru's day, nor was he inclined to talk about his own. He'd grudgingly accepted the role of happy homemaker when faced with the reality that he had a child who needed _someone_ to take care of him full-time, and as Subaru already worked and Kamui had neither desire to go back to school or qualifications to hold any other kind of job, the lot fell to him. He didn't like it much, that was clear, but he didn't complain, and Subaru liked coming home from a long day of onmyouji-ing and just playing with his infant son until dinnertime, so he didn't say much. Besides, Kamui's cooking was finally to the point where he'd stopped burning the rice and most of what he made was edible.   
  
Though all told, the baby was probably lucky he was still on his formula.   
  
"I've been thinking about Kentaro..." Subaru began, bouncing the child a little in his arms.   
  
"No."   
  
"Shinji?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Junichi."   
  
"No."   
  
Subaru sighed.   
  
"Kamui, he needs a name."   
  
"No it doesn't," Kamui answered, not looking up from his paper.   
  
"Sooner or later you'll have to decide on one," Subaru insisted. Although to be frank, 'decide' was the wrong word to use. It made it sound as if Kamui was simply torn between a few choices rather than refusing to make the decision at all.   
  
"No, I don't. It's not like people use first names so often in Japan."   
  
Well, that was true, although Subaru could have pointed out that they hadn't even established whose family name the child would be taking: his or Kamui's. But one headache at a time...   
  
"Even so, it's supposed to be done..."   
  
"Things that aren't supposed to happen happen all the time in this family," Kamui replied testily. "He should get used to it."   
  
"Well, there's always Ichirou..." Subaru sighed.   
  
"Ichirou..."   
  
"Yeah. Plain, simple, commonplace--"   
  
"_Ichirou._"   
  
"Yeah. Do you li--"   
  
It was then that Subaru saw Kamui's look, which was absolutely murderous. If he'd been at Kamui's baby shower, he would have recognized it as the same expression the boy had worn about two seconds before turning the shrine maiden of Ise into a pile of ash.   
  
"Is something wrong?"   
  
"Are you trying to IMPLY something by that name, Subaru?"   
  
For a moment, Subaru wondered why Kamui was so upset--and then it clicked. "Ichirou" meant 'first son,' which naturally implied that the parents intended other sons to follow.   
  
Wow. He hadn't seen Kamui's aura glowing like that in a LONG time.   
  
"Um...not Ichirou, then. Sorry."   
  
Subaru turned away; when he heard the sound of Kamui angrily rustling his papers, he knew it was safe to breathe again. He turned his attention to the baby, who was by now giggling and grabbing at his hair.   
  
"How about a nice bath, boy? Would you like that?"   
  
The child gurgled happily.   
  
"Yeah me too ... maybe Kamui will be in a better mood by the time we're done, neh?"   
  
Kamui scowled over the top of his paper as he watched the two of them disappear into the bathroom. He wasn't always in such a humorless mood. Today was a bad day. On good days, he could be found smiling quietly to himself and rolling a ball across the floor for the toddler to crawl after--a large rubber purple ball with a bell in the middle of it that the baby seemed to enjoy playing with. It was even something Kamui had picked out himself. Subaru wasn't quite sure he approved, given that Kamui had found the ball a pet store, but sometimes you had to take what you could get. And Kamui had a hard time accepting the kid at all. He couldn't accept that the baby was real, that any of this had actually happened. If he did, what would that make him--what, it's mother? But no, no ... he was a boy! That couldn't ...no. He just...no.   
  
And even if he could get past _that_ weirdness, if he thought of this child as his son ... that was one more person to lose to death or betrayal. One more person he would ultimately fail in the end. He couldn't handle that again. Not after Sorata.   
  
But.   
  
On the other hand, something subtle and subconscious in him _was_ aware that this child was _**his**_, and he couldn't bear to abandon it. Especially not to Subaru. For one, Subaru was the Sakurazukamori, and Kamui understood what that meant with regard to their son. He wanted to believe that Subaru would never go through with the succession, but then there were lots of things he had never believed Subaru would be capable of that somehow ended up happening anyway.   
  
And then...simply put, Kamui was jealous. From the beginning, the child seemed content and happy with Subaru while it wailed and sobbed around Kamui. He couldn't understand it. Did the child sense his own discomfort? He had read once that animals could do that, and that they often responded to the emotions they can sense, but he had no idea if babies could, too.   
  
It wasn't as if he wanted the kid to cling to him in adoration--he just seemed to _hate_ Kamui so much. It hurt. To be rejected by something he had however unwillingly given life to ... hurt.   
  
The resentment built up slowly over time, until Kamui bristled in Subaru's very presence. But there was nothing to be done; he had nowhere else to go and knew no one else he thought would help him. He had no choice but to stay with Subaru until he did something that made the situation intolerable.   
  
He found himself paying close attention to the time Subaru spent with the infant-- at first to find out what Subaru was doing that pleased the child so much, but then for other more obsessive reasons. It was then that he noticed--   
  
"Kamui, the bath's ready if you want to pop in before dinner."   
  
Kamui jumped. Subaru was standing behind him, a towel around his neck. Bugger had a way of sneaking up on you...   
  
"Have you seen those overalls I picked up for him the other day?" the older man asked.   
  
"I think--wait, why not just put on what he had on earlier?"   
  
Subaru smiled.   
  
"But he'd look so cute in them."  
  
"We're eating soon--they'll just get messy. And I just did the laundry today."   
  
"Don't worry--I'll throw them in if they get dirty."   
  
Kamui sighed and led Subaru into the baby's room, where a quick search yielded the lost overalls.   
  
"There we go," Subaru declared, hooking the straps over the baby's shoulders. "Perfect. Maybe after dinner, we can take a bath, and then I'll take some pictures..."   
  
"But you just took a--"   
  
Subaru swept out of the room, apparently oblivious.   
  
"--a bath."   
  
Baths.   
  
Subaru gave their child an unusual amount of baths. At least once a day, and somtimes more.   
  
Now, babies get dirty. Kamui was well aware of that. Sometimes, when he was in an especially good mood and he took the baby to the park, the kid got downright filthy. But that didn't happen every day. One bath a day would probably suffice.   
  
It was...creepy. Almost as bad as the picture-taking. How many albums had Subaru filled up already? And the baby was HOW old? You could make flipbooks with all the pictures Subaru had...   
  
Kamui had a suspicion. And as with all good suspicions for people who have nothing to do other than dwell on them all day, it grew over time until it had confirmed itself. Subaru was a little _too_ close to that long deceased twin sister of his, and of course the Sakurazukas who traditional held the position of Sakurazukamori were notorious for their inappropriate family relations...   
  
Suddenly, Kamui had a real problem. The Sakurazukamori thing was a threat that he had assumed he would not have to deal with it for many years yet, but now there was the possibility of another, more immediate threat Subaru posed to his son. Kamui couldn't allow that to happen. He didn't know what to do or how he could stop it, but he knew he'd never be able to live down the guilt if he made no attempt to keep his son safe from the incestuous designs of its father.   
  
This time, Kamui was going to protect someone he cared about, and it was going to STICK.   
  
They had to leave, that much was certain. But where? Tokyo still wasn't in much shape, Kamui didn't have any money, and with a baby to take care off and his education, job possibilities were limited. Even if he could struggle through that, what was to keep Subaru from finding them? He had found them easily last time; couldn't he do the same again?   
  
There was one chance. Kamui was pretty sure that what Subaru had located was him and not the child. After all, Kamui had a very distinctive aura that Subaru as a former Seal and current Angel was very in tune to. The child, on the other hand, was too young to say for sure. Though Kamui was in no way as well trained as Subaru in such matters, his own psychic senses couldn't differentiate his son from the masses of people flooding back into Tokyo.   
  
Maybe ... if he hid the child somewhere ... Subaru might never be able to find him.   
  
The only other option he had was to run and keep running for the rest of their lives. That had been his mother's choice when she had been burdened with him. That had been the childhood he had, endlessly moving from place to place, making friends and losing them so often he had lost the will to try anymore by the time he was thirteen. He had run from things he didn't understand until he was much older, and though he now knew why his mother had chosen that life for them, he remembered how much he hated her for it at the time. How very unhappy he was then, loving his mother dearly (she was really the only family he had) but resenting her for so many reasons, and always fighting a nagging feeling that somehow, something he had done wrong had caused all of it.   
  
That was no better than life with Subaru.   
  
It was for that reason that just a few short months after moving in with Subaru, Kamui found himself standing on a rooftop, holding his crying child in his arms, and looking down on a particular private house as the morning sun appeared over its eaves. This was a good area of Tokyo--suburban, relatively untouched by Fuuma's wanton destruction, pretty wealthy, with good schools. It was everything a child could ask for if he could pick the parents he was born to.   
  
Below, the lights in the Isumi house were just coming on.   
  
The Isumi's were a young married couple who, like many Japanese nowadays, were having trouble conceiving. Adoption was not a popular solution to such problems, but Kamui had been watching this family for some time. He was sure they were kindhearted enough to accept a child and bring him up as their own. Everything about them seemed perfect. They were exactly the kind of family that Kamui always wished he had when he was a child.   
  
The baby howled.   
  
"You'll never be happy with me," Kamui explained. "Don't be mad at me, please--I really just don't know what else to do. Everyone I've ever cared about has been lost one way or another; it doesn't seem right to subject you to the same curse."   
  
He pointed the house out to the crying child.   
  
"You'll be happy there, I promise. I'll be keeping an eye on you just to make sure you're safe ... but, you know, I can't be too obvious about it or Subaru might find out. You have to believe me when I say this is for the best ... I'm not trying to ruin your life, I just don't know what else to do--please stop crying."   
  
This wasn't making him feel any less guilty about giving the kid up. He truly didn't understand what was so horrible about himself that a small, innocent child hated him so much.   
  
As if acknowledging Kamui's request, the child finally settled down a little, but more likely it had simply exhausted its ability to cry anymore. Kamui smiled a sad and desperate smile anyway.   
  
"Thatta boy. You'll be happy here," he repeated. "You'll be _safe_ here ... and you'll have the life I was never allowed. You'll have friends, and go to school ... you'll be a good student, won't you?"   
  
The child looked down at the street below curiously.   
  
"Yeah, you're more like Subaru than me really ... you'll be good in school. And you'll have a mother and a father who will adore you and take you to all those festivals. Maybe you'll be good at sports-- well, you'll be good at a lot of things I think. And you'll grow up and find something you love ... someone you love and you'll be happy."   
  
Something wet fell on the baby's face. He looked up quizzically at Kamui, who wiped at his eyes quickly and smiled.   
  
"Won't that be great?" Kamui asked.   
  
The child looked down at the street below again and seemed to think over the prospect. Kamui knew it was silly to think that an infant so young understood what he was saying or what was going on, but it was comforting to pretend that he words had some meaning to the child. That he was looking down at the house and considering Kamui's plan.   
  
"I'm sorry ... I've never been able to do anything right. But I know you deserve better than that. Maybe just this once I can make the right choice?"   
  
There was no obvious response from the child. Kamui shifted him closer to get his attention again and held up the pencil sharpener he had bought the day before. He was slightly embarrassed by the gift--it wasn't the kind of token he should be leaving with his son, but then they're weren't many good gift shops open now that Tokyo had nearly been leveled. He wanted to leave his son with something that had a kind of sentimental value. It couldn't be just anything; he wanted to leave the child with a special connection to him ... even if it was one he would never understand.   
  
The child, though, was thrilled by the gift if only because the silver paint shined in the light from the streetlamps. For the first time ever, he cooed in Kamui's arms as he reached out for the bright model tower.   
  
Kamui almost lost his nerve ... maybe he could make it work. Sure he had failed so many times before, but maybe just this once Fate would let him have his way about things. Maybe he could talk to Subaru and convince him--   
  
_Nonono_. Kamui shook his head. He had tried talking to Subaru about far more serious things (the killing people and feeding them to trees thing for one) long ago. Subaru was not someone who changed his ways when he was committed to them, no matter how immoral they might be. And he was sure in a way that if it wasn't Subaru it would be something else, there was always _something else_ waiting for him.   
  
Kamui had been willing to accept everything that had happened to him as the course of destiny and just move on to a normal life with his son once ... but fate had her way with him, discarded him, and then _still_ killed Sorata. There were no guarantees anymore.   
  
"See ... it was a good thing I never gave you a name after all, because now it's like your past never existed. It's like you're born again to that family down there, isn't it? They'll be good to you."   
  
He jumped off the roof, landing easily on his feet on the street below. The child in his arms seemed not to notice the transition at all--it was happily chewing on the edge of the plastic casing around Kamui's gift. Kamui smiled a little at the child before laying out the basket he had brought with him and making sure it was comfortable enough. He quickly folded his note and slipped it inside before gently nestling the infant into the makeshift cradle.   
  
"Well ... I guess this is goodbye," Kamui said. He felt that he should say something else, but he didn't know what else he _could_ say. "I'm not going to forget you, and you should know that no matter how hard things get you'll always have someone looking after you. Goodbye ... Isumi-kun."   
  
Kamui stabbed the doorbell and took off, leaving his infant son on the doorstep of strangers. From the rooftops he watched, carefully hidden by shadows, to make sure that they answered the door and took the child in, but he didn't let himself stay any longer than that. Who knew how long he would have before Subaru came home and started to suspect something?   
  
And it was on that same rooftop that Kamui sat nineteen years later, watching his full-grown son standing on the very doorstep, unlocking the door to the home Kamui had made for him. Kamui curled himself into a tight little ball...   
  
He wondered for the billionth time since he had done it, whether he had made the right decision.   
  
*********   
  
"Well?"   
  
Ryoma shrugged. "At the very least, he's not an idiot like the rest of them."   
  
"Ryoma-kun..." Kakyou frowned disapprovingly.   
  
"I dunno."   
  
"It might be easier to judge if you weren't so concerned with finding ways to get under Kamui's skin."   
  
Ryoma chose to ignore the comment.   
  
"Even if he seems okay now, he could still turn out to buy all this idealistic war-on-incest bullshit."   
  
"You think so?"   
  
The chair Ryoma was sitting in made a dull squeaking sound as he turned it. It was technically Kamui's chair, because Ryoma was technically in Kamui's office, at Kamui's desk, playing solitaire on Kamui's computer. All of this was strictly forbidden for anyone excluding Kamui, and out-of-the-question for a lowly ward like Ryoma, which was partly why Ryoma was doing it. Not that Kakyou was likely to turn him for such a silly offense.   
  
"No, but then people have _surprised_ me before," Ryoma replied bitterly.   
  
Were it Kamui, Kakyou probably would have told him to just get over it, but Ryoma was different. Ryoma needed to be handled with kid gloves about certain things, because under his snarky, somewhat cold and rude exterior he was still very much a child who would recoil from a strong scolding. Ryoma didn't thrive off of tough love the way Kamui did.   
  
So instead of saying what he was thinking, Kakyou just held a plain, boring looking manila folder out in front of Ryoma's nose and waited until the boy's gold eyes slowly moved away from the computer screen.   
  
"What this?"   
  
"His file."   
  
"_His_ file?"   
  
"That's what I said."   
  
There was a brief disbelieving look in the tennis player's gold eyes, one quickly covered up by a mask of cold indifference. "I'm not allowed to see this," he said while simultaneously taking the folder out of Kakyou's hands.   
  
The pale dreamgazer smiled. "Well I wasn't going to start a file for him at all, but Kamui insisted. He likes things to be orderly."   
  
Ryoma thumbed the edge of the thick file folder thoughtfully. "Why wouldn't you start a file for him?"   
  
"It didn't seem necessary since he's not an incest case ... then again, we have files on agents who aren't incest cases either, like Tezuka-kun, so I suppose it probably makes sense..."   
  
He trailed off softly, but then Ryoma hadn't heard anything beyond the first statement.   
  
"What do you mean he's not an incest case?"   
  
"Read the file for yourself. His mother is so removed from him she calls him 'Akira-san,' and he barely sees his father. As far as we can tell, there are no other significant relatives in the picture. Not even Kamui could find a threat of incest in this boy's life."   
  
Ryoma raised an eyebrow. Kakyou smiled and nodded.   
  
"Then why is he here?" Ryoma asked, blinking.   
  
One of Kakyou's long elegant fingers gently tapped the classification tag next to Akira's name on the lip of the file folder.   
  
"_Volunteer_??" Ryoma sneered incredulously. "He doesn't seem very eager to be here."   
  
"He probably isn't."   
  
"Then why would he volunteer-- and since when are incest-free volunteers put in the ward program?"   
  
"Saaaahhh," Kakyou shrugged. "That was Kamui's decision."   
  
"_That guy_, what the hell is he up to?"   
  
"Don't concern yourself with Kamui's plans. I have yet to see any one of his schemes actually work the way he wanted them to, so it''s nothing to worry about.   
  
"Besides," Kakyou added thoughtfully, "that isn't why I'm letting you see his file."   
  
"Then why _are_ you breaking AID protocol?" _Not to mention going behind Kamui's back to do it._   
  
Kakyou had always been something of a safe harbor for Ryoma. Whether the boy liked it or not, he was here, surrounded by the ecceletic band of nitwits, freaks and psychopaths Kamui had assembled under his organization. He needed someone he could trust, and he trusted Kakyou. Out of the entire AID staff, Kakyou seemed to be the only one with a level head and reasonable expectations. Granted, Ryoma didn't quite understand Kakyou's motives for co-founding and running AID, but he understood that Kakyou and Kamui had some kind of past connection that seemed to demand some level of loyalty or perhaps just sympathy from Kakyou.   
  
But if Kakyou was going to defy Kamui in Ryoma's favor, he did so right in front of Kamui. He never went behind Kamui's back for Ryoma, or at least, he had never done so before.   
  
"I think you'll find that you and Touya-kun have a lot in common."   
  
Ryoma's nose wrinkled up at the answer. "Does he play tennis?"   
  
Kakyou shook his head.   
  
"Then how much could we possibly have in common?"   
  
The older man gave in to a little chuckle as he headed towards the door.   
  
"Two boys trying to crawl out of the shadows of their fathers--how many differences could there be?"   
  
The lights were already off and other than the burning glow from the computer and the thick wedge of light from the hallway, the room was dark. As Kakyou started to close the door behind him, the room beyond Kamui's desk faded into a dense pitch black.   
  
"Kamui's off angsting; he won't be back for at least an hour. Put the file back when you're done and if you get caught..."   
  
A slight smile curled up on the dreamgazer's lips.   
  
"...I knew nothing about this."   
  
Ryoma nodded quickly as the door closed.   
  
Finding himself in total darkness except for the blue glow from the computer screen flushing his upper body, Ryoma.reached for the lamp on Kamui's desk and turned it on, filling the room with a soft gold light that seemed to disperse like smoke as it rose towards the ceiling. Ryoma sat the file down on the desk and opened it up. Unlike the incest case files that were a jumbled mass of nonsense and useless information, the AID ward files, written up by Kakyou, were neat, orderly and filled with an uncanny amount of pertinent information. Perhaps that was only to be expected of a dreamgazer, though.   
  
_Touya Akira..._   
  
Like Ryoma, Touya Akira had began learning the same sport his father had made his career in almost from birth. Also like Ryoma, Akira's drive to play Go had more to do with seeking his father's approval and personal enjoyment of the game then any pressure to play from the family. _Unlike_ Ryoma, Akira's father wasn't an obnoxious, lazy, pervert but Ryoma supposed that was neither here nor there. No father could top Nanjiroh in that department.   
  
_Touya Akira has spent most of his life in the company of adults: patrons in his father's Go salon, students of his father and colleagues of his father. Interaction with others his own age was strongly discouraged by his parents for fear that it might lower their son's potential as a Go player. As a result, Touya is inclined to isolate himself from others. He has difficulty relating and socializing with other children his own age and finds that his peers react negatively or take offense at his habitually frank manner. Jealousy over his extraordinary skills does play a significant role in these reactions, but even children who did not aspire to play Go professionally tend to find him unnerving._   
  
Ryoma had to smile at bit. Arai and the other senpais hoping for a regular spot had been so threatened by his skill they imagined all sorts of offenses in the very same way. Of course, Ryoma's parents had never discouraged him from making friends with other kids, but they moved around so much they might as well have anyway. And after he started playing on the American Junior Tennis Circuit friends became pointless--he always had another match in front of him to prepare for and a fixation on winning them all...   
  
_The social contact Touya does have is instead with the adults associated with his father's life. Assuming the role of teacher and peer to pros and Go enthusiasts alike has in part given Touya Akira a skewed view of appropriate behavior between older and younger people, leading to his habitual directness and slight lack of humility. Touya's traditional upbringing has ensured he is not completely without manners, and in matters outside the Go world he is normally very polite, soft spoken and formal with people. His formality could be seen as another method of isolating himself from others.   
  
Most of Touya's relationships are healthy despite their effects on his personality. The patrons and employees of his father's Go salon hold him in very high regard and treat him affectionately and protectively. His father's students acknowledge him as an intellectual equal and are receptive to his thoughts and opinions when given.   
  
There is, however, one relationship that has certainly done damage to Touya's mental state._   
  
"Ohhhhh?" Ryoma grinned. Finally, the juicy stuff!   
  
_Ogata Seiji is a high level Go Pro and current title holder. He had studied under Touya's father from before the time Touya was born and over the years has developed a close relationship with Touya Akira. Ogata is someone who Touya trusts and respects, but this seems to have blinded him to Ogata's predatory impulses._   
  
Touya had fallen in with a pedophile? Ryoma was a little surprised--he didn't seem like the type. Not that he knew much about pedophiles, he he knew Muraki, and he seemed to go more for the young, cute and helpless types. Of course, Muraki was a lot of other things beside a pedophile (the man felt no need to restrict himself to just one group to prey on), and a curse-casting psychopath probably wasn't the best person to use as an index of any kind of "normal" behavior...   
  
_In recent years, this has evolved into an inappropriate and barely consensual relationship between the two of them. Although upon joining AID Touya was aware of the damaging nature of this affair and eager to put an end to it, this is a realization that has developed only after severe damage to his self esteem and ability to completely trust others._   
  
Okay, Ryoma had to hand it to Kamui-- assuming this information was correct, he had _**for once**_ actually managed to save someone from a serious problem that wasn't exaggerated or completely imaginary. Of course it had nothing to do with incest, which kind of saved Ryoma from having to respect the organization Kamui had setup ... but still.   
  
_Touya respected Ogata as both a player and an ally. He aspired to his strength, and hoped that under his guidance he could reach a level of skill that rivaled his father._   
  
Ryoma froze, his eyes moving over those words again as he suppressed the reaction that had been raising hot and quickly up through his throat. He didn't want to think about that, he had been such a good mood before ... why did he have to be reminded of that?   
  
_He aspired to his strength, and hoped that under his guidance he could reach a level of skill that rivaled his father. The betrayal of that trust was most damaging in his emotional state and social abilities._   
  
Ryoma wondered if Kakyou had used those same words in his own file, or if Kakyou had written about that at all. After all, Ryoma hadn't been lured into a sexually abusive relationship, which seemed to make all his anger and bitterness about the way he had come to AID feel so silly. He hadn't been forced or otherwise coerced into something like that--he had simply ended up here. In light of Touya's situation, his own betrayal seemed so insignificant.   
  
Maybe that had been Kakyou's intention in showing him this.   
  
Ryoma leaned back into Kamui's luxurious plush office chair and folded his arms behind his head. Closing his eyes, he tried to process the conflicting emotions racing through him. That one simple sentence had brought up a mess of memories that almost made him physically wince. At one point they had been happy memories, at one point they had been some of the best experiences of his life, but they had been embittered by the knowledge that the other's interests had nothing to do with his talent at tennis but ... other things.   
  
Still, it was easy to be mad at the world when everyone in his path here was happy and optimistic, but it was much more difficult to do so when he knew that at least one of them had it much worse than he had. If Touya could tolerate the rest of the AID wards after what he had been through, wasn't it unreasonable for Ryoma to pretend he couldn't?   
  
He didn't think he was ready to forgive and forget, and he certainly didn't think he was ready to give Kamui any ounce of respect for the way he ran his organization, but he thought ... maybe ... he could start to let go just a little. Since he had come here everyone had been telling him that what had happened had been done for his own good, that they only had his best interests in mind, but Ryoma didn't believe that ... not even for a second.   
  
But the alternative was no more appealing, especially since he couldn't say for sure that he wouldn't fall into the same trap Touya had. At the time, if it had played out like that, he might have gone along with it simply because he still carried around those illusions about what kind of person the other was, and Ryoma was no less eager to abandon them than he was to give up tennis itself.   
  
Ryoma stared at the ceiling.   
  
"Touya Akira ... huh." 


	14. Kakyou and Ryoma are not slashy DAMNIT!

  
  
"Kamui."   
  
"Eh?"   
  
Fuuma gave Kamui a stern 'you should know better' look and folded his arms across his chest. "Are you just going to ignore him?"   
  
Kamui blinked owlishly. "Ignore _who?"_   
  
His twin star looked very pointedly across the table at the figure occupying the spot on Kamui's right. Kamui brought his teacup up to his lips and gave Fuuma a perfectly innocent and perfectly confused look.   
  
Fuuma sighed. "He asked you to pass the sugar."   
  
"Who?"   
  
"Froggie."   
  
Kamui's eyes darted down to the frog plushie sitting at the table with them.   
  
"Oh..." he said. "Of course he did. Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."   
  
Kamui pushed the sugar-serving piece across the table towards the ever stoic frog plushie. In the two years he had been attending these formal engagements, Froggie had not once broke his sewn on smile or raised criticism about Kamui's poor table manners.   
  
"Does he want the milk, too?" Kamui asked, carefully scooping two spoonfuls of sugar into the plushie's teacup.   
  
"No!" Fuuma hissed, glaring. "He doesn't take his tea with milk!"   
  
"Oh...sorry." Kamui stared down at the table, properly chastised.   
  
"More tea?"   
  
"Yes, please."   
  
The two /Kamui/ sat directly across from one another at a low, square table covered with a red tablecloth. Delicate white porcelain pieces were arranged in a very particular and careful pattern. Fuuma happily picked up the teapot and gently tipped it towards Kamui's cup. Though nothing came out of the spout, Kamui lowered his cup ever so slightly as if it had become heavier. After Fuuma had scalded himself serving tea to a visiting Pokemon dignitary, Keiichi had absolutely forbidden real tea at these engagements, which were such a fixture of Tokyo high society. So rich, soothing Oolong tea had been retired in favor of a special imaginary brew.   
  
"There! All done!" Keiichi chirped, placing a serving dish of carefully arranged cakes on the table. He plopped himself down across from Froggie, then carefully lifted his own cup and took a sip. He made slightly overdone "Mmmmm" sounds and patted Fuuma on the head.   
  
"You did a really good job with it, Fuuma! I'm impressed!"   
  
"Yours is probably cold by now," Fuuma replied sheepishly.   
  
"No, no, not at all! It's perfect!"   
  
"I should put it in the microwave to warm it up for you."   
  
"It's fine, Fuumies, see ... here, Kamui, feel the cup and tell me if it's cold."   
  
Kamui, who'd heard about some of the adventures Fuuma had had with the microwave, slipped a hand around the cup.   
  
"No ... it's fine."   
  
"Well, see? Kamui says it's fine." Keiichi smiled and Fuuma reluctantly accepted.   
  
"So Kamui..." Keiichi continued, pushing a piece of strawberry shortcake on Kamui with a smile that said _You're too thin, don't argue with me, dammit_, "how are things with the travel agency?"   
  
"Ah ... yes. The travel agency. Ummm...well...business has been..._improving_..."   
  
"That's good!"   
  
"Yeah...we've been focusing on training new staff to handle the load."   
  
Kamui wasn't sure when he'd come up with the travel agency story. Truth be told, it wasn't really necessary--there was no real need to keep Keiichi in the dark about AID, and Kamui really doubted his friend would disapprove of an organization designed to squash the growing threat of incest in Japan. (What sane person would?) But sometimes, it was nice to look and act like a normal person with a normal job and a normal life. Or as normal as any ex-Messiah who'd given birth to another man's child was ever going to be.   
  
"Oh really?" Keiichi asked. "Actually, I was thinking about taking Fuuma somewhere nice and sunny for a little vacation. Might do him some good to get out of the city for a while, you know? I think we could handle that--and if things got out of hand, well, that's what the choke chain's for, right?" He snickered. "Well, among other things, of course..."   
  
"Well, actually--" Kamui began.   
  
"Now, I know you don't like talking business outside of the office--"   
  
"No, I don't--"   
  
"But I was wondering what your rates are to Hawaii--"   
  
"Don't book for Hawaii," Kamui replied quickly.   
  
"No? What about Okinawa?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Thailand?"   
  
"Nope."   
  
"The Philippines?"   
  
"'fraid not."   
  
"Well ... where _can_ you book, Kamui?"   
  
"...Siberia?"   
  
Keiichi blinked. He leaned a bit closer and asked, "I thought you said business was doing well?"   
  
"Well, you see...Siberia is...really becoming one of the premiere travel destinations..."   
  
"Really? Is it interesting?"   
  
"_No_ not at all."   
  
"Stuff to do there?"   
  
"Not much."   
  
"Nice scenery?"   
  
"If you like snow."   
  
Keiichi leaned back again and took another sip of his 'tea.'   
  
"Why are so many people going to a place like that?" he wondered aloud.   
  
Kamui shrugged and shoveled a large forkful of cake into his mouth.   
  
"It's all the rage right now--taking your vacation somewhere horrible so home looks that much better by comparison."   
  
"Ah ... well, I suppose that makes sense." Keiichi looked disappointed.   
  
"Not for everyone," Kamui agreed, nodding, rather proud of himself for successfully defusing the situation without giving up any important information. Siberia--jeez, that could've been a close one! Score one for Kamui and his brilliant tactical maneuv--   
  
"Oh! I saw Isumi-kun the other day!" Keiichi said, grinning. "I could hardly believe it was him--all grown up and so handsome. You must be really proud, Kamui!"   
  
"Eh?" Kamui looked up, the fork still sticking out of his mouth. "Where--where did you see Isumi-kun?"   
  
"Here!"   
  
"Here?"   
  
"Here!"   
  
"Why was he here?"   
  
"Subaru brought him over for a vi--"   
  
The clatter of Kamui's fork landing on his plate stopped Keiichi in mid-sentence.   
  
"_WHAT????_"   
  
"More tea?" Fuuma asked, smiling.   
  
*********   
  
After a few days living at AID Headquarters, Akira was beginning to feel like he'd gotten the hang of things. The strict rules for the wards provided a routine that made it easy to settle down and adjust to the changes. It was, of course, a routine carefully planned so as not to interfere with the wards' lives in the outside world. The administrators were concerned, perhaps understandably so, that the wards shouldn't stick out as odd or weird among their peers.   
  
Moreso than they would normally.   
  
Monday had been a busy day for Akira because of Go, so he'd been assigned kitchen clean-up that night. For one person it would have been heavy work, but it was one of the jobs that were assigned in teams, and was an easy choir. The dishes were finished and the cafeteria floors swept within an hour.   
  
Tuesdays, however, were a different story, as the only item on Akira's agenda was a single tutoring session. Normally, he'd spend the rest of his day at his father's Go salon playing informal tutoring games with the patrons. He enjoyed being there, but hours upon hours of time spent there simply because he had nothing else to do and there was no one waiting for him at the home made his Tuesdays boring beyond belief.   
  
Now Akira wasn't sure whether he should have been so honest about his wealth of free time.   
  
"What's 'O.W.' mean?" he asked.   
  
"It stands for 'Office Work'," Ryoma supplied, sliding past the other wards to get a look at the chore chart. "It's easy stuff, mostly filing, gophering ... sometimes you have to answer the phone."   
  
Akira made a face.   
  
"Wanna trade?" Ryoma offered with a sly grin.   
  
Akira's eyes darted up the chart to where Ryoma's name was listed ... bathrooms. The most horrid and disgusting of all jobs regularly assigned to the AID wards. Ryoma had in fact been assigned this troublesome task for the entire week, something neither he nor any of the other wards seemed surprised about. Akira was sure there was a reason for this, although he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what Ryoma had done.   
  
"Uh, no thanks."   
  
Ryoma shrugged. He didn't seem especially bothered by his punishment. Maybe that meant the stunt had been worth it. One day, Akira hoped to work up the courage to ask someone about the details of Ryoma's reputation. It seemed to be so shockingly out of proportion, and certainly Ryoma encouraged the bizarre stories a little. But for now he didn't want to give the impression that he didn't like his roommate (although the wards all assumed that was the case), and he certainly wasn't going to ask Ryoma about it. The boy had only very recently accepted his presence in their room, and in Akira's experience, it wasn't a good idea to tease a sleeping dragon.   
  
Instead he chose a more or less neutral conversation topic.   
  
"So you're going to be in school today, then?"   
  
"Aa, then tennis club activities-- oh ... that reminds me, would you feed Karupin in the afternoon?"   
  
_Karup_-- oh right the cat. The cat who normally slept on Ryoma's bed, but had recently taken up the habit of sleeping on Akira's face.   
  
"Yeah, sure."   
  
"Kakyou normally does it while I'm in school, but lately he couldn't so I had to fill his bowl up all the way and hope it would last him until I got home. He didn't seem to like that."   
  
Akira was dimly aware that Ryoma had spoken more about his cat than anything else. Overall, though, he did seem decidedly more friendly today than before. There could be a reason for that, or maybe he was just in a good mood...   
  
"Not a problem," Akira said. "Anything else?"   
  
"Nope," Ryoma shrugged, tying his shoes and throwing his bag roughly over his shoulder. He was out the door with little more than a quick 'Ittekimasu.' Akira frowned softly. Maybe he wasn't any friendlier today ... maybe he was just worried about his cat.   
  
Akira found AID HQ's main office pretty easily despite having never been there before. But that was only because he did not follow his first assumption--that the main office would be somewhere easily accessible to the public, most likely on the first floor. Instead, he deduced that from what he already knew about AID that the main office was likely to be in the most inconvenient and unusual place possible. Unfortunately he had no idea what that would be, so he hopped on the elevator, randomly pushed a floor button and hoped for the best.   
  
On the fifth floor, the doors to the elevator opened to reveal a few rows of desks with busy office workers behind them and a large glass-enclosed private office in the very back. The glass was frosted to keep prying eyes out of the business being conducted within, but Akira could make out the shadow of someone sitting at their desk, apparently going over paperwork. There was light chatter floating around the room, some of it from people answering phones, and Akira, despite many attempts, could not decide exactly what these people were working on.   
  
Well eavesdropping shouldn't be a priority anyway; he moved to the largest of the desks and addressed the first person sitting there who didn't seem to be too busy.   
  
"Ummm... excuse me?"   
  
The receptionist listened courteously as Akira tried to explain that he wasn't sure if he was in the right place but he thought he was supposed to do some work here today---   
  
"Oh!" she said. "You're our ward, then?"   
  
Almost before he could say 'yes,' she began piling stacks of files in Akira's arms. He had no idea what they were for, but there were nearly _mountains_ of them that she had pulled out of seemly nowhere and just dumped into his care.   
  
"Okay, let's start you on that," the receptionist said, smiling. "Filing room is in the back next to Kuzuki-san's office, just follow the ID numbers on the folders."   
  
Despite the overwhelming number of files, Ryoma was right about it being pretty easy work. Not that Akira enjoyed the dusty file room much. The lighting was poor and hurt his eyes, and the lack of windows badly distorted his sense of time so that after he had worked his way through three gigantic stacks of files, he had no idea how long he had been there.   
  
There was another door in the file room. Presumably it lead to the adjoining office, although Akira hadn't even noticed it until it opened and Kakyou hobbled inside. At this Akira paused. Even though he'd been assigned to work here, he felt almost like he'd been caught somewhere he shouldn't be. There was something about the way Kakyou entered that said he was expecting the room to be empty.   
  
Although if Kakyou was indeed surprised by Akira's presence, he gave no indication of it.   
  
"Good Afternoon, Touya-kun."   
  
There was a dramatic contrast between the two main authorities in AID. Kamui was almost never addressed anyone properly, he referred to them by first names or dropped the appropriate suffix, his words were almost always in a casual, almost crass style ... he was in short, however unintentionally, somewhat rude in his speech. Kakyou, on the other hand, was very formal and respectful. He always addressed people with the proper titles and polite phrasing. The differences probably only started there--Akira was willing to bet Kakyou wouldn't confuse Go with Connect 4 or Othello or Shoots and Ladders, either.   
  
"Is it afternoon?" Akira replied somewhat drowsy.   
  
"It's about lunchtime now, yes."   
  
Akira sat back. Being locked in the dreary room had made him pretty sleepy. At one he had his tutoring game to get to, then he would be back here until eight assuming his job didn't take longer than three hours. It was difficult to tell, but he didn't think he liked this Tuesday arrangement any better than his old one.   
  
"Should you be working, Kakyou-san? Wouldn't it be better to recover a little more first?"   
  
"I can manage at least this much," he said, simultaneously heaving a large stack of files on to the edge of the table. He proceeded to refile them back where they belonged with natural ease, but given his limp and even the occasional flinch Akira could hardly see him as ready for even light paperwork.   
  
"Here let me do that," he offered, being extra careful not to make it seem as if he was attempting to 'help' Kakyou. "You probably have more important things to do than this."   
  
Of course Kakyou wasn't stupid, but he seemed to appreciate Akira's tact enough not to make an issue out of it. Instead he took the opportunity to sit down at Akira's seat and take a short break, yawning as he did so and pushing his hair back over his shoulders.   
  
"Thank you."   
  
"What are you working on that you need all this stuff, anyway?"   
  
"Actually ... we're constructing a computerized database of all our files so we can put all this in storage and be done with it."   
  
Akira paused and glanced back at the Dreamgazer.   
  
"Wow...you mean you've got to go through all of _this?"_   
  
"Sadly, yes."   
  
"...do you need some help?"   
  
Now that was rather convenient...Still, Kakyou didn't quite like the idea of accepting the offer and adopting Kamui's style of underhanded sneaky tactics. He preferred to be more honest and upfront about his intentions, and as far as Touya Akira was concerned, he had none. Save for just playing along in Kamui's elaborate schemes, but that wasn't so much an intention as it was a necessity. One could hardly presume to try and argue with _Kamui_, but if Kakyou kept himself in the loop he could at least keep him from emotionally scarring the AID wards ... too badly.   
  
On the _other hand_, Touya was _volunteering_ ... oh why did being the neutral party have to be so difficult?   
  
"I suppose that would be all right." Kakyou's selection of words was careful. Akira noticed, but at the time what could he possibly make of it?   
  
"It's almost lunch time, though," Kakyou added almost as an after thought. "Why don't you finish up what you were doing and take a break? See me when you get back."   
  
Akira wasn't a huge fan of lunch to begin with, and he was about to say as much when he remembered he had promised to feed Ryoma's cat that morning. Besides the dust was giving him a bit of a headache. There was no reason not to accept a little break.   
  
"I have a job at one, and I promised Echizen I'd feed his cat before I left" he said by way of explanation. "It was probably silly to volunteer given all that to begin with, but ... if you'd like help afterwards?"   
  
Kakyou nodded faintly, already pulling out handfuls of new files and as such not really listening to intently to their conversation, which had fallen into meaningless and polite small talk.   
  
"That will be fine ... are you getting along with Ryoma-kun now?"   
  
"Sure, of course."   
  
Akira wasn't one to complain. After all wouldn't it be rude to insult the efforts of an organization dedicated to improving family values by complaining about the services they worked so hard to provide? Especially when he was living there for free ... or something close to free.   
  
Besides, Ryoma seemed to be perfectly good at getting himself in trouble all by himself. He already had a week of bathroom detail ahead of him, and Akira indicating his somewhat lukewarm feelings towards the younger boy and the early incidents that had made him so cautious of Ryoma's recent acceptance wouldn't do anything to improve his situation at all.   
  
"Good to hear ... then you best not forget about Karupin. There are few things in this world that are more valuable to Ryoma-kun then his cat."   
  
And Karupin greeted the sight of food warmly. Apparently he didn't like living in AID-HQ if it meant foregoing his regular meals. Akira felt bad for him. The cat was not especially suited to life in the dorm. Akira wondered why Ryoma had brought him along. He highly doubted the cat was under a threat of incest, too, although one never knew anymore.   
  
***********   
  
Chaos did not break out as soon as Akira got back from his job. In fact, chaos did not break out until a good thirty...maybe forty minutes into helping Kakyou retype and organize files with the computer. But it seemed to him in retrospect that the furious Kamui followed him into the office, almost snapping at his heels. Indeed, he wasn't sure where that impression had come from, except that Kamui was so absolutely terrifying when he was angry you'd almost swear you could feel the rage radiating out from him. Like waves of some unearthly energy.   
  
Akira wasn't the only one who felt it: the entire office went silent, and workers ran back to their desks even if in the middle of legitimate business as if fearful for their lives. Nobody moved as Kamui slowly but firmly stormed up the aisle in the direction of Kakyou's office, except for Kakyou himself, who looked up from where he had been leaning over Akira's shoulder and frowned.   
  
Kamui's fearsome steps lead him right to that very desk, one which Kakyou had "borrowed" from a clerk and set Akira up at. The boy wanted to slink under it at once. Anger had given Kamui an unnatural confidence--he was normally so clumsy and self conscious in his manner, but now there was an impressive viciousness to his movements.   
  
Kakyou put his arm on his shoulder, as if sensing the effect Kamui was having and urging him to stand his ground.   
  
The former Messiah stopped right in front of them and glared at Kakyou with more spite than Akira would have thought possible. What could have caused such a thing? The two of them seemed to get along and respect each other so much...   
  
Much to Akira's surprise, Kakyou glared right back and the tension among the office nearly tripled. Akira tried very hard not to squirm in his seat.   
  
After some time, Kamui's anger finally settled to a level where he could speak, and in a low, almost flat tone he asked, "Is paranoia unreasonable?"   
  
"Only if you would like to conveniently ignore the fact that you made me promise not to dreamgaze anymore," Kakyou answered back, completely unintimidated. "You can't have it both ways, Kamui."   
  
"Lately it seems I can't have it any way ... did you know?"   
  
"Not until you came in here, and then I could pretty much guess."   
  
Kamui looked ... almost disappointed, but accepted the reasonable answer. Akira felt as if Kamui was melting in front of his eyes, the anger giving way to frustration and despair as his shoulders slumped and he started running his hands through his hair as if about to tear it out. Kakyou took his arm and guided him into the privacy of his office where the two of them could talk.   
  
The door slammed hard and the entire office shuddered in response. Everyone was looking around to each other with wide eyes, but no one said a single word.   
  
Akira watched the closed door worriedly.   
  
*************   
  
"What are you doing here?"   
  
Akira looked up from the papers on Kakyou's desk, and found a familiar face looking at him with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. Clearly he didn't expect to find Akira in Kakyou's office rather than Kakyou.   
  
"Huh? Uhhh ... Kakyou-san asked me to type up the file stuff--"   
  
"Why would he ask you to do that?" Ryoma asked sharply.   
  
Akira hadn't expected any one of the other wards to be pleased with the fact that he had suddenly been given access to a great deal of personal information about them. Not that he had used this opportunity--he tried his best not to think about what he was typing. But it seemed (at least to him) that Ryoma's tone had more to do with his disappointment in not finding Kakyou then any real disapproval of what Akira was actually doing.   
  
"I dunno, Kamui-san came in here obviously upset, Kakyou-san said a problem had come up and would I please do him a favor..." Akira trailed off slowly as he watched a quick spark of panic flicker in Ryoma's eyes. "What is it?"   
  
"Did he said were they were going?"   
  
Akira shook his head, setting the papers (out of order) back in their folder and saving the file he had been typing. He searched his memory of the aftermath of the heated standoff. While he wasn't likely to forget the memory of an angry Kamui, once they had emerged from that office the AID leader seemed to have regrouped and returned to his normal determined and passionate personality. From that point everything that happened seemed fairly insignificant.   
  
"Kamui-san mentioned something about needing to change, but that was all..."   
  
He couldn't really hide his surprise when Ryoma cursed and moved immediately for the door, obviously upset. And perhaps because the knowledge had no meaning to Akira, it bothered him that it should have such an impact on the younger boy. Maybe he'd unwittingly mislead him...   
  
"Whoah, wait a minute," Akira said, grabbing Ryoma's wrist before he too could storm through the office. "What's going on?"   
  
"Kamui's going to get Kakyou killed."   
  
Akira might have tossed the remark off to Ryoma's habitual bluntness were it not for the particle topic. This, he was pretty sure, was something Ryoma would not joke about.   
  
Two sharp, perfectly serious gold eyes glared at him accusingly, filled with such incredible anger that Akira felt himself retreating both physically and mentally. Should he had been more suspicious and done something to prevent the two men from leaving? Yet on some level, he knew that even if there was something he could have done to change things, Ryoma's anger was directed at him only because it lacked a more appropriate target.   
  
"Where are they going?" Akira asked.   
  
"To fight Borgia."   
  
Akira blinked.   
  
"The last fight put Kakyou in a coma, he's not recovered from those injuries and there's no way he's in any condition to fight again now."   
  
"...Booorgia? What's 'Borgia'?"   
  
"You're new," Ryoma said. His patience was growing dangerously thin Akira could tell. "You'll learn about them soon enough."   
  
Wait...if this was official AID business, as would be the only conceivable reason to put Kakyou in the sort of danger Ryoma had suggested, and AID tried to prevent incest ...   
  
"These Borgia people--" Akira began slowly...   
  
"What?"   
  
"--they don't--I mean, there couldn't be--"   
  
"They're the pro-incest organization, yeah."   
  
Akira was so momentarily boggled that Ryoma almost got his wrist free, but the older boy recovered quickly.   
  
"Hold on!" Akira insisted. "Even if that is the case, wards aren't permitted to interfere with official AID operations."   
  
Admittably, that was a pretty stupid objection, especially for someone like Ryoma who made a business out of breaking the rules. Still, Akira had a bad feeling about this and any excuse to hold him back was good enough.   
  
"I'm not going to let Kakyou get hurt," Ryoma answered his tone very flat and dry even as his eyes reflected a raw rash of fear, worry and rage.   
  
"What are you going to do to stop it then?"   
  
Ryoma hesitated "....I'll figure something out."   
  
Traces of annoyance were coming through in his voice now. He was getting more desperate, and every second that went by without action provoked him more and more.   
  
"What makes you think you'll be able to stop it?" Akira persisted.   
  
"I have to _try_."   
  
_He is desperate_. At once Akira realized that this must be something really serious. It wasn't just his personal distaste for Kamui and AID that had given raise to such anger, Ryoma was sincerely worried about Kakyou. He could see it in his eyes, in his anger, and within each harsh, insulting word. Ryoma really believed Kamui was leading Kakyou to his death.   
  
"I'll go with you then."   
  
"I don't need _your_ help," Ryoma frowned.   
  
"You don't know that, you don't have a plan." Akira pointed out, grabbing his coat from the rack. "Where are we going?"   
  
Ryoma stared at him for any a moment before he conceded and began to lead Akira quickly out of the main office and towards the exit. "How upset was Kamui exactly?"   
  
"_Really_ upset," Akira answered. "He wouldn't even talk to Kakyou at first, and he slammed the door to Kakyou's office so hard the glass rattled for about five minutes."   
  
"Then it can only be one thing," Ryoma concluded. "We can take the subway there, come on."   
  
************   
  
"There will be three of them," Ryoma said, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.   
  
"...who? of Borgia?"   
  
A nod, "The first two I can only tell you what I know from Kamui, and who knows how true that is, and Kakyou who doesn't like talking about that aspect of AID anyway."   
  
"And the third?"   
  
"Him ... I can tell you all sorts of things about."   
  
"Why's that?"   
  
".... we go to the same Junior High School."   
  
"Oh..."   
  
Ryoma continued on unfazed, "first there's Sakurazuka Seishirou. He's the oldest of the main Borgia force ... really old-- I think he was dead once actually,"   
  
Akira blinked dumbly and opened his mouth as if to say something.   
  
"It gets complicated," Ryoma shrugged before he could. "He works with dark magic forces ... just stay away from birds when we get there. I don't think there's much either of us can do about him, but then he's usually more interested in taunting Kamui anyway.   
  
"Then there's Hiiragizawa Eriol, apparently he's even stronger than Seishirou. But he's also pretty lethargic, and he never uses his full power. Just hope you never piss him off."   
  
"And the last one?" Akira asked.   
  
Ryoma didn't answer right away, clean cut rectangles of sunlight moved over his features quickly as the train car raced through the city. For a moment Akira thought the younger boy's expression hardened a little beyond his normal deadpan look, but there was something distracted about his eyes that Akira didn't know how to interpret. Certainly having a bitter enemy go to school with you couldn't be a pleasant experience ... but the problem seemed even deeper than Borgia itself.   
  
"Fuji Shuusuke," the tennis player finally said. "He plays tennis like me."   
  
"Well then he shouldn't be too much trouble," Akira sighed. "At least there's one without magical powers--"   
  
"Nope," Ryoma corrected. "He's a distant relative of Seishirou."   
  
".....which means?"   
  
"He's not as strong as Seishirou, but they use the same type of magic."   
  
Akira paused, "....just with ... tennis?"   
  
"Yup."   
  
"....and that doesn't seem a little unfair to anyone else?"   
  
"Are _you_ going to accuse someone who's related to a clan of serial murderers of cheating at tennis?"   
  
"...................."   
  
"....................."   
  
"....I suppose not."   
  
"Neither am I."   
  
"So..." Akira began reluctantly, suddenly very glad that the train car was practically deserted. This was a very silly conversation to be caught having in public. Although the fact that Ryoma refused to sit down made it a little more difficult to speak discreetly as well. He could understand it though, the feeling of anxiousness so intense that one couldn't bear to sit still for even a moment, the troubled look in his eyes that he could only handle if he allowed it to bore out the window and onto the unimpressive scenery outside.   
  
"What exactly are two teenagers without any magical powers, tennis or otherwise, supposed to do to help out?"   
  
"I don't know..." Ryoma admitted again, his hand clenching the hand rail tightly. "Kamui can handle himself ... or spontaneously combust for all I care, but we have to get Kakyou out of there."   
  
**********   
  
"6 and a 1/2," Subaru instructed, holding his hand out expectantly.   
  
Hikaru looked over the selection in front of him carefully. They were all so clean and immaculate looking, it would be impossible to guess what they were _really_ for if one didn't know any better. And Subaru had choosen not to reveal the nature of his onmyouji work ... not to Hikaru, at least not yet.   
  
Although really only Hikaru could manage not to see anything odd about the fact that Subaru had a large and impressive collection of _knives_.   
  
Satisfied with his decision, Hikaru handed Subaru one of the blades. "There."   
  
The onmyouji looked at the dagger in his hand briefly before knocking Hikaru once of the top of the head with his fist, just hard enough to make the blonde boy yelp in surprise. "Wrong, this is 6 inches."   
  
Hikaru rubbed the sore spot on his head and scowled. "What's the difference!?!"   
  
"Only a half an inch."   
  
"Pfffffhhhttt.."   
  
To illustrate his point, and vent his own growing frustration, Subaru's arm snapped around Hikaru's neck and pressed the blade into his throat just hard enough for the sharp edge to be felt but not cut. Then the knife moved away, hovering close by as if Subaru might change his mind at any moment and slit the boy's throat. "There," Subaru said, no trace of emotion in his voice despite his growing irritation. He indicated to the space between Hikaru's throat and the edge of the dagger, "that's a half an inch. Still think there's no difference?"   
  
Hikaru rolled his eyes. "All right, all right, I got it already. Geez Subaru, get the stick out of your ass why don't you?"   
  
With that, and not the slightest bit of fear in his manner, Hikaru went back to studying the assortment before him. Subaru chose to ignore the stick-ass comment for the sake of his sanity; that was just _**not**_ the way one spoke to one's elders. Yet Hikaru got progressively more informal with him as they went along.   
  
"Mouuu... why can we just do this in centimeters!?!?!"   
  
Subaru felt a migraine coming on. He had never in his entire life met anyone as frustrating, incompetent and completely _clueless_ as Shindou Hikaru. The boy had absolutely _no idea_ how many times Subaru had come so close to killing him. He had absolutely no respect or appreciation for the position that Subaru held or the power he wielded. There were many people who had no idea what Subaru did at night, and they still sensed the blood on his hands almost subconsciously. Then they behaved accordingly. They behaved in a way that Subaru found personally quite pleasing, they left him the _hell alone_.   
  
But not Hikaru....   
  
Adding to his frustration was his own decision _not_ to kill Hikaru. Now he didn't even have the satisfaction of planning out ways to torture and murder the little Go prodigy to ease his pain. He just had to _deal_ with the kid, and hope the eventually he could beat some sense into him.   
  
Or at least some knowledge of which ritual daggers were which.   
  
Despite the overwhelming annoyance he made himself, Subaru had decided that Hikaru could be profoundly useful to him in numerous ways. Of course the downside of this was that he had to keep the kid around, and since he had told Isumi that Hikaru was his assistant it would be necessary eventually start taking Hikaru out on his jobs with him. Subaru didn't actually need _assistance_ of course (especially not from a half-wit like _Hikaru_) but if he didn't at least appear to take the brat along sooner or later Isumi would get suspicious. They had gotten so close in the short time they had known each other, if Isumi found out Subaru had Hikaru spy on him ... well Subaru wasn't sure how the boy would react to the news. He might be reasonable about it ... or he might see it as a profound betrayal and everything would be ruined right there.   
  
Subaru, frankly, wasn't interested in chancing it.   
  
"All right," he sighed. "An easy one then, give me the Boline."   
  
Hikaru blinked at him.   
  
"That's the one with the bone handle right?"   
  
"Yeeeeeessss...."   
  
The boy picked up the correct dagger and dropped it unceremoniously into Subaru's hand. "Why do I have to learn all this stuff anyway?"   
  
"You'll find it useful in the future I'm sure."   
  
Hikaru crinkled up his nose at the thought. "Subaru, I play Go."   
  
Subaru looked up from where his fingers had been drawing patterns in the carpeting, a dry, unamused look on his face. "So?"   
  
"So, when am I ever going to have to pick out the knife with the appropriate blade length in the middle of a game?"   
  
"I assume you do other things besides play Go."   
  
He said it even though he knew from his early observations of Hikaru that actually Hikaru did very little besides play Go.   
  
"Well yeah I guess...."   
  
"And I also assume that not every single person you know plays Go Professionally."   
  
Subaru took great care to make sure he included the 'professionally' part, since in fact everyone Hikaru knew short of his mother _did_ play Go on one level or another.   
  
Hikaru thought about that for a moment, "I guess so..."   
  
"Then it's not impossible that at some point it might be nice to know something not in anyway related to Go, is it?"   
  
"No, but..." Hikaru pointed accusingly. "You're the only person I know who needs all these knives."   
  
"For now," Subaru admitted as much.   
  
"For now? Who else in their right mind owns _20_ different knives?"   
  
"Ummmmm.... chefs?"   
  
"Great, so one day in the future I'll become the closer confidant of a future iron chef who will entrust me with the care of his kitchen utensils?"   
  
Subaru was about to respond when his senses picked up a small spark in his area. Much to his surprise, Hikaru seemed to have noticed the uninvited presence as well and was immediately across the apartment petting and chatting animatedly with the small fur ball sitting on the balcony.   
  
He doubted somewhat that Hikaru would react well to having the seemingly cute, innocent animal stabbed right in front of him.   
  
"That thing probably has rabies, get away from it."   
  
"It's just a ger--"   
  
"Hamster."   
  
"Whatever. Why don't we keep it? It's cute!"   
  
Subaru rolled his eyes, "Because, if you must know, it's the evil spy of this punk ass kid who's convinced I've stolen his family's birthright."   
  
".....I do not appreciate your sarcasm Subaru."   
  
"...I wasn't being sarcastic."   
  
"Suuuurreeee."   
  
"No really, I wasn't." 


End file.
